Thursday, July 12, 2018


A camera is this thing
A box made of metal and plastic
Fitted with mirrors and lenses 
And a hole to consume the light 
It diligently reproduces 
What I tell it to see

The aperture controls the depth
I open the iris wide
In order to make it see less
A thin line of perfect clarity
While everything else
Becomes unimportant

My eyes are lenses and mirrors 
They see an imperfect 
And upside-down world
That my brain then sets right
My mind diligently telling me 
This is the way things should be

You see
I am the opposite of a camera

I have trouble remembering 
The days become a streaming blur
Though daylight fills my windows 
A darkness still persists
The dim creeps in from the edges
like a cancerous vignette
It consumes the light

It becomes hard to focus
And I get this sinking feeling
That I'm out of my depth
Like I'm living in a tunnel
With curved glass on either end
I have trouble looking 
Beyond my eyes
Everything seems so unimportant

The camera sees anything I tell it to
But I'm not really sure 
How to show you 
What this is
That I'm looking at

And I really would like you

To see

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