Eyes as round as painted rocks,
Curling at the edges, yet duller than before.
Where a reflection would normally lightly glean
There is stark darkness.
Surrounded by a shade of deep blue,
As an ocean where the brightest light only hardly touches.
At the center a perfectly black circle,
Something no human being could draw,
It pulses, slowly beating - expanding and contracting,
The striations of a thousand different shades of blue
Bulge and thin to the beat of a slowing heart,
As if deep in thought, but without the connotations.
It is angry, thick with black sludge that seeps out
As you stare at it, mind numbed.
The pulse stays perfectly even, the sludge thickens.
The fear of what is lurking begins to risen in your veins
Turning a hot red color as the hair on the back of your neck,
Your own eyes widen, as the backwards thoughts scream run.
But it is all taboo because you want to know,
You want to see that evil thing, let it rise out and reek chaos.
You can feel the blackness pouring out of it, thick slime,
Slightly coagulated and reoccurring back into itself.
A sludge soaked claw scratches at the edges of blue.
Pouring over into itself, crushing it's own creator.
Hastily, the fear itself takes over in violent shades of red,
Piercing through your brain and forcing you to shut your own eyes
And turn away from the mirror.
Comments about this poem (An EyeBall by Emily Beck )
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