sometimes i feel the devil
and his dirty eyes
burning me alive...
inviting me to fall
into a comfortable numb.
but in that numb
a hatred dwells, smirking in the shadows.
i shrug him off and
pretend he isn't there.
my inner madness spills into a
thin black ink.
so you can read
what your eyes
while i sit
spitting thoughts from my fingers.
hurting and feeling.
Jonny Brackney's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Dirty Eyes by Jonny Brackney )
- On The T.V., Hannah Bryson Price
- Why do need wisdom anytime?, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- it is almost poetry, Mandolyn ...
- Wisdom's great aim, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Our world is without any kind of wisdom, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Dream packed drama, hasmukh amathalal
- A fool واحد احمق, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Quite same, hasmukh amathalal
- Lack of wisdom, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Wisdom, MOHAMMAD SKATI
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