Beyond the Bloodshot: SJ Murphy

Image courtesy of Greg Schwartz


Heavy, stinging, bloodshot eyes
looking out on a world –
distorted –
woven with strands of fairground music.

The Waltzer swirling thoughts
violently inside a moss covered rock –
distorted –
canals, crevasses of ice sided cliffs

impossible to climb. Hands and feet
keep slipping, falling deeper –
abstracted –
Picasso expressed abstract – unique among fools.

Foolish attempts to exhume all but
the very crystal of being –
abstracted –
a Goldfinch sings a tune of merriment

and the Dove looks me straight in my
heavy, stinging, bloodshot eye.

Until hope has gone – encased in his
thin black collar – like a capsule –
buried –
opened when found – by then it’s too late.



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