Weird Poem of the Day



Is what I’m called when with a heavy heart

I carry a bevy of eyes that are alive when

they arrive in the city on a spiraling wind.


I find the city blind until my grotesque form

absorbs strangeness that oddly becomes

a comfort


when the eyes arriving in the middle of the

night without sight miraculously see what’s

inside of me through eyes that come alive.


I see what they desire and if they had

vision like me, they’d be depraved in a

degenerate way.


I do my job and wave at the sky before

I give them a shot of novocaine and rip

out their eyeballs in a painless way.


I suck out their spirits that are liquid and spit

them into an icy spiraling wind that puts me in awe

as it takes them to a place called Bizarrerie.


Spirits not ashamed to scream upon opening their

eyes that I gave them as a gift, so as not to deprive

them of seeing in the name of love, what was to come.


They had to sweat and their mouths bloomed as though cut.

It would be fun when who I really am became clear to those

who now had eyes and could count the years they’d been alive.


Not one found dinnertime the instant to be blind or else in their

imaginative minds they’d get behind and have to adjust the wind

with a magician’s wand to leave their spirits in the dust.


They could leave in disgust once they heard the bizarre beat,

like a rock guitar in the dungeons that used to be their minds.

Out of breath I take out their eyes that are full of lies

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