The Wasteland

The Wasteland
Filling in the blank, white spaces of the world with words!

Sunday, December 12, 1999

Seeing-Eye Dog

Tell me what I just slammed into,
Because the eyes don’t see on their own anymore.
The purple haze blocking the light is my ritual sight.

By the way,
Visine only takes the red out,
Leaving mostly blue.

Wednesday, December 8, 1999

Dog

It’s not enough to be let off the leash:
The collar still rings the neck.