Do These Look Like My Eyes?
Do you ever feel the world spinning,
Hollow like,
Straight underneath those feet?
Does it leave you tumbling and bumbling,
and clinging to your sheets?
And have you ever seen the road become the ocean,
As a violent night breaks into day?
Did your lips even quiver when the could-have-beens
Emerged soaking from the sea?
My destiny is irrelevant. I’m just an apple tree.
This fruit I bear doesn’t even belong to me.
As it is picked I figure out that everything
Will soon be lost from me.
Now have you ever stood at the precipice,
And just helplessly watched as the world stopped making sense?
Did that light inside become oh-so-dim?
Our everyday, healthy fear of everything.
And did the snaps of the cracking, gnarled bones of the dead
Make you sick as we walked over them.
And isn’t that, isn’t that the freedom that you said you needed?
So in the end we are all the same, just a waste of space,
filled with the apples that we eat.
