Blind Sight

1 Jul

by Darragh the Poet

Don’t ask me what i think you look like.
Don’t wonder what it must be like.
 
Every shape has a sound, smell, feel, ora.
You look at me and see a male, average height, you smell my scent attributing to hygiene, and you hear my voice which lacks tact.
When i see you, i see voice. i smell your hatred, fear, jealousy, love, sincerity, and your future.
I smell the grotesque, the true beauty which needs a paper bag to cover up reality.
Your reality that no one is interested in.
I smell the spit you spat in the faces of the unknowing whom needs sanctity in a boarded up 5 sided holy house themselves.
 
Don’t ask me what i think you look like.
Don’t wonder what it must be like
 
What i see are things you are not ready for.
Colors that manifest nightmares.
Crawling out from under a floating bed on broken ground.
Since i don’t sleep on the floor.
My touch gives me hope, gives me joy, it gives me darkness and pain.
Dreams and tears.
I walk on and in shadows daily.
My shadow doesn’t even know me.
 
Don’t ask me what i think you look like
Don’t wonder what it must be like
 
The permanent burned image that runs from my sight whenever i look at it, taunting me.
Smiles and wags its tail.
My left eye can’t catch it though.
Futuristic colors of green, purple, and blue, morph and spiral constantly like the unborn childs dream.
Northern lights show of the same that only show themselves when my mind needs them.
Sleep? i am sleeping all the time.
Somebody unplug this experiment so i can wake up.
 
Don’t ask me what i think you look like
Don’t wonder what it must be like
 

Darragh became totally blind after a head trauma in 2004.  He says that a lot of his writing has his visions as a blind person that he sees in people or dreams.   Darragh has a poetry website of his own at www.welcometodarragh.blogspot.com .

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