{ pathetic.org }
 

BECOMING THE WITNESS

by Timothy Wilson

My eyes are peeled
Torn back from the rind
A scientist stands over me
And forces me to follow moving lights
And loud noises
Even when I muster the strength
To pull the curtains down
Even when I am gifted with sleep
And my being inept as a vegetable vanishes
The images number like my reflection in my father’s mirrors
On and on

So I witness myself
Becoming the witness
Out of body
Can’t escape myself
Just the cold dead shell
Every clicking
Nanosecond of still frame
Life is played before me
And its damage is burned in the pixels
Of my screen
And the memory on my hard drive

10/07/2009

Posted on 10/07/2009
Copyright © 2024 Timothy Wilson

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)