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| Near Sighted by IMustBeDead |
Every morning
I am born again
blind as an infant
the world a gauzy, milky
Impressionist painting
Before my first breath
fully escapes my lungs
I've already lunged
for them
It's innate
instinctual
a survival behavior, really
The movement is one
The pattern the same
lunge, grab, grasp, pull, open, place, adjust
Even in the dark
it must be done
before I arise
The behavior is a part of me
a reflex
(try not kicking out when the knee is tapped just so)
Contact lenses
make for clearer vision
but blurrier behavior
To wit:
my index finger pushing up upon
the bridge of my nose finds
nothing
and at bedtime
a slight pinch and pull of my thumb and pointer
atop my ear finds
nothing
The feeling
is quite bothersome
a sort of phantom limb
Though I curse the need for them
I miss them
when they're missing
Let there be sight.
