Poetry

My third eye

My third eye-

bursts out of my head like a maniac.

Like some hideous jack-in-the-box,

garishly made-up,

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,

delusional,

fanatical in its dogged pursuit of deceits.

My third eye has some hysterical

life of it’s own, and

I’m convinced

It

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

such pleasure,

in twisting the very nature of truth

into such a seething mess of

lies.

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.

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6 thoughts on “My third eye

  1. Believe me, it’ll wear you out first. Your job is to understand it, understand what it has to offer. It is energetic, multicoloured and enthusiastic: everything a human should be.

    When balanced by dignity, that is.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yep.. I’m there already 🙂 The trick is to let it be.. let it tick over and do it’s own thing without directing your attention inwards too far. Then it’ll catch you peeking!

      Like

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