Had I known
The visions would plague
My waking hours,
I might have rejected
Such flippant pleasures.
Were I aware of the suffering,
The blindness that comes from staring into the sun,
I might have caught my train.
But I was not,
And now, I am able to see nothing –
The blackness of ecstasy:
Laid upon the mattress on the floor,
The soft light of the morning after
Embracing the edges of the body
resting upon its belly,
caught in the gaze of a single eye,
crookedly watching me
sway.
To beauty, to hills, to the fires of hell
Where even the ugliness of me
Will be burnt pure.
I will not have my vision back:
I do not want it anymore.