Image, imagine

your eyes look frightened.
all of a sudden you look
the age you are: those round white
hollows of paleness scourged
into your face. and spots of
hectic red on cheekbones, an
inverse bleeding where colour
floods unnaturally. your eyes
look frightened, your eyes
look old. 

who are you
now? to where
do you go? to what
do you direct your
self, your
energy? all you hear

is echoes -
a resounding in the mind's
hollows, a shuddering of
skin, tears issuing in 
rain.

is this what it is like, 
living?
oscillation between the red
and the white, between
passion and
nothing?

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