Four Wet Eyes


They are the only ones who understand us. We are the only ones who understand them. Four wet eyes with streams below and broken stares. Four amongst millions more. Four excuses trying to break me. From our letters we can see them, but others think I’m fine.

Their strength is secret. They send my secret thoughts to whom they hide from. They fill up and they roll down and touch my chin between my rosy cheeks and smear the ink with endless pain and never quit their wishing. This is how they fall.

Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all drown the page like the bottles lost at sea, each losing direction with the waves. Dry, dry, dry eyes preach when I cry. They try.

When I am too broken and too lost to keep moving, when I am a lifeless eye against built barriers. When there is nothing left to wait for. Four who close and do not forget to wake. Four whose only reason is to breach me.