Stream of Consciousness #1: Fragile Eyes

My eyes are so fragile could there be the one thing that would make me see forever straight and narrow like an arrow don't want to be tied to the ground unless the ground is the only place I can be want to be tied to righteousness like a ship going to the top of a mountain during a flood where the heavens came through the roof of my imagination like a painting I drew when I was just a kid it's finally over on a rollercoaster like a drop of paint in my veins bleeding like a hurricane in a mansion where we're playing hide and seek riding my bike up a stream of smoke into the clouds and riding around like Super Monkey Ball and super funny crawling on our hands and knees trying to find our keys, whispering things to each other and getting tired of each others' jokes, need to go back to school to figure out some new tricks, some new lines, why didn't they ever teach me how to talk, how to walk, how to use drafting software, how to talk to girls, how to talk to girls, how to do all these things and now I'm walking out the door again at the end of the party and I'm not saying goodbye because I finally realized that no one cares I'm leaving and it's OK and why is it OK and does it ever get any deeper than this and I'm driving home and there's a faint dim light from the highway lights and it barely scratches the sky and why does it seem like the darkness is winning, like we just carved out a little corner of the darkness and we're all huddling together but any day it's going to fall down, and we're all just scared to talk about it, not the darkness like evil but the darkness like the cold, unknown, the blanket that keeps slipping over your foot and you know you could get a good night's sleep if you could just get your shit together and your brain would cooperate, is there any kind of curse worse than waking up like a dog, like an instrument that just got played too much, like a tape that somehow didn't rewind?