I could only wonder what stood
in front of those cracked and bruised lenses,
wire frames bent and twisted
into clumsy spirals
that press into his temples
and cause those frosty eyes
to narrow in anguish
when they make contact
with what was not resting
in his mind.

His features became warped and empty
behind the glass,
intricate curves of bone and skin
muddled as I look through the cracks
that decorate his vision
and leaves his feet determined upon the crooked
paths intricately crafted
from freshly molded memories.

I stand mesmerized by the faint shifting
of secretive eyes and lips
which fail to ever articulate
the truths he hides beneath his tongue
while the vibrations from his throat
only spit out those
translucent lies that are crafted
in order to distort edges
so his mind stays steady despite
his new perception that
would leave us trembling on our toes.

So instead I’m left
with only glimpses of the caverns
that lie beyond those battered frames,
where the world is tinted and smudged
beyond belief
and reality stands
dim and convoluted.