Close Your Eyes

Close your eyes and wonder:
Where am I in this darkness?

When nothing else exists, do I?

The people with their eyelids taped open
have snake-eyes that tunnel into the ground
and no relief from the blinding walls of their
neon-fluorescent enclosure and suffer sleep 
without anesthetic dreams to dull the silence. 

They have no rest, they do not blink -
there is a singular sadness in their look
that I once mistook for longing.
But for what would they search,
if nothing escaped them, if
everything they knew of
was right before
their very
eyes?

When I want to write

It sometimes starts with a single word, like 'vacuum', or two, like 'give me' -
not so much a key to a locked door, through which my heart gives and takes,
as a single stone displaced from the wall of a dam by a sudden jolt of current.
But the water does not leak like it would from a tap carelessly left open,
but rushes out impatiently, with the rage that is gathered from invisibility.