My third eye-
bursts out of my head like a maniac.
Like some hideous jack-in-the-box,
wearing jingling bells,
an inanely coloured costume and
a Red gash for a smile.
It bursts out of it’s box
with irritating aplomb
and absolutely no warning,
to shatter my tentative reality and
send my reason soaring into outer space.
It is a farce with a face.
My third eye is obnoxious,
fanatical in its dogged pursuit of deceits.
My third eye has some hysterical
life of it’s own, and
has more than one single ball
to contain it’s useless visions.
How else, could one eye
(even a third one)
conspire to invent such monstrosities?
How could a third eye take
in twisting the very nature of truth
into such a seething mess of
My third eye is alive,
and it seems to be stalking me.
I roll my two eyes,
buckle down, and wait
for it to exhaust itself.
It’ll run out of steam eventually-
or my own attention span
will run out.
Either way- I will wait.