Eyes to see,eyes to hurt

I raise my palms to cover
two empty wells that reign
the middle of my face,
the center of my brain,
the core of my image-bound
system.
they're dripping in hazel
and swollen in grief,
for the day is long,
while people hide their thorns
beneath rosy silk...
crimson ivy intertwines with weeds
around these two relics
of a fluid time and a weary
body-
the memories beneath are vapid,
cancerous,
sick...
I clench my fingers to revive
the red waters lurking
in the den
of this upside-down world
of imagined evil-
two overflowing wells
that draw my horizon,
that make me real,
that can close the gates
of Hell...