oh dear oh no the shadows are moving and twisting in dances i cannot hope to follow

and they say 
if you're only blinking
then surely the time you spend in the light 
outweighs the darkness 

but here's the thing
i'm not blinking
i am sewing my eyes shut of my own unaccord 
give me a word that describes what i'm feeling

and every day i rip stitches 
pry my eyelids open to desperately drink in the light 
only to go to sleep that night 
and wake to find them tighter than before, 
my fingers pricked by needles 
and turning the same blue as my hidden retinas 
by nooses of strangling thread

so when you say 
that i'm just blinking 
i will smile and nod 

because i am, really, 
just blinking

it's merely that my blinks 
last for hours and days and weeks and months 

lasting for years with only brief respites of torn sewn restraints 

and the time i spend 
with my eyes open and seeing, if unseeing to an extent, 
is a precious commodity much out of stock 
supply < demand 

i am spending my life in darkness 
but i'm living it in the spaces between blinks 
so just - 

you don't know the horrors people wake up to find, 
eyelids stitched into neatly dark pockets 
so please don't ever call it 
just a blink. 

The End

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