Eyes Behind
My Eyes

I close my eyes and the light stays on
Shapes are breathing behind my thoughts
Every name I ever wore
Falls like dust across the floor

I hear my heartbeat speak in hues
Every truth is split in two

There are eyes behind my eyes
Watching as the moment bends
I see myself begin to fade
Into colors without ends

Mirrors whisper without a sound
Time runs slow, then turns around
I reach for thoughts I used to know
They melt before I let them go

The room is shifting in my head
Every word is almost said

There are eyes behind my eyes
Tracing lines I can't defend
I see myself begin to fade
Into colors without ends

I am the watcher, I am the wall
I am the echo after the call
No beginning, no disguise
Just a spark that never dies

There are eyes behind my eyes
Soft as flame and cold as rain
I see myself dissolve at last
Into visions without name

I open my eyes but nothing's gone
The dream keeps breathing, moving on

I held a little paper sun
Beneath my tongue until it run
Through every room I thought I knew
And painted all the windows blue

The chair became a sleeping bird
The clock forgot its final word
A flower opened in the floor
And showed me what the floor was for

I saw my name upon the wall
It had no letters left at all
Only colors, thin and bright
Breathing softly in the light

My hands were glass, my bones were rain
My shadow smiled and walked again
It crossed the ceiling upside down
And wore my face without a frown

The sun dissolved behind my eyes
In little rings of sweet disguise
I heard the carpet start to sing
Of every small and hidden thing

No door was shut, no door was wide
The room had swallowed space inside
I sat as still as painted stone
And watched myself become unknown

When morning placed me back in time
The walls were pale, the bells were fine
But something golden, thin and spun
Still circled round the paper sun

I spoke my name to make it stay
It curled like smoke and slipped away
And all the dust across the floor
Was breathing softly as before

The mirror learns my name tonight
It says it softly through the light
Its silver mouth begins to bend
And calls me stranger, calls me friend

A face I wore when I was small
Looks out from somewhere in the wall
It smiles as if it always knew
The glass was looking backward too

The mirror learns my hands by heart
It takes my fingers all apart
And places them in rings of flame
Around the letters of my name

A little square of violet rain
Is blooming softly in my brain
The room leans close, the curtains rise
To see the weather in my eyes

Who is standing there
Where my shadow ought to be
Who has borrowed all my skin
Who is dreaming me

The mirror learns my name at last
Then turns my future into past
I touch the glass, it touches through
And leaves my body pale and blue

When dawn arrives without a sound
The silver face is turned around
But in the corner of my eye
It keeps on learning how to lie

The room breathes in
The room breathes out
The room knows what
I dream about

A line of light across the chair
A mouth of dust beneath the stair
The wallpaper opens one small eye
And watches all the hours die

The room breathes in
The room breathes out
The room knows what
I dream about

I placed the moon upon my tongue
And all the ancient wires sung
The ceiling loosened from its nail
The air became a silver veil

The room breathes in
The room breathes out
The room knows what
I dream about

No wall remains, no window stays
The floor has learned the sky's old ways
I am the corner, I am the door
I am the breath beneath the floor

The room breathes in
The room breathes out
The room knows what
I dream about

When I wake, the paint is still
But something moves against my will
The room breathes in
The room breathes out

The violet hour walks backward
With bells around its feet
It leaves the evening folded
Beneath the empty street

A little paper angel
Was sleeping in my hand
It opened both its painted wings
And turned to yellow sand

I saw the clock grow feathers
I saw the window kneel
I saw the sound of water
Turn slowly into steel

My thoughts were pale musicians
With faces made of string
They played inside the cupboard
For every hidden thing

The room became a lantern
The lamp became an eye
The eye became a doorway
That opened in the sky

I walked into the doorway
And found no other side
Only a child of silver
Who asked me where I hide

I answered with a color
I answered with a flame
I answered with a silence
That almost knew my name

The violet hour walks forward
The bells are still in tune
But every shadow in the room
Is turning toward the moon

There is a bassline underneath the floor
It has been turning there before
Before my name, before my skin
Before the room invited me in

I heard it first below the chair
A wooden pulse inside the air
It moved the dust from side to side
And taught the little shadows to hide

A paper moon behind my teeth
Was raining colors underneath
The bassline rose through every wall
And made the silent pictures crawl

The organ opened like a wound
And filled the room with velvet sound
The guitar trembled, thin and bright
A silver insect in the night

There is a watcher under me
With roots where eyes are meant to be
It hums along, it knows the door
It is the bassline under the floor

I tried to rise, I tried to speak
The floor was breathing through my feet
The hidden pulse, the buried tone
Had built a house inside my bones

There is a bassline underneath the floor
It has been turning there before
When I am ash and I am rain
It will begin the song again

Inside the cupboard was a sky
With crumbs of stars and one red eye
A moth flew out with velvet wings
And told me secret, folded things

It said the night had called my name
It said the candle knew my shame
It said the moon had lost its thread
And tied it softly round my head

Then came the moths in solemn rows
With powdered coats and golden toes
They gathered where the lamplight fell
And rang a tiny silver bell

They asked me what I thought I was
A man, a dream, a little cause
I opened wide my mouth to say
But all my words had flown away

The oldest moth began to rise
With candle smoke inside its eyes
It placed one wing upon my brow
And said, you are the watcher now

The cupboard closed, the room was plain
The lamp was still, the glass was sane
But on the wall, in dusty light
A thousand wings had marked the night

After the colors fold away
And leave their dust upon the day
I sit beside the window stone
And feel the room become my own

The birds are birds, the walls are walls
The morning through the curtain falls
But something small behind the air
Is slowly turning like a stair

I thought the garden had to close
I thought the silver river froze
But every cup and every chair
Still keeps a petal hidden there

The clock is kind, the mirror mild
The door no longer speaks in wild
Yet in the corner of my sight
A flower opens without light

At the center of the quiet
Where no color has a name
I saw myself divided
Into watcher, wall, and flame

One was made of water
One was made of rain
One was only listening
For the dream to breathe again

I thought the garden had to close
But now the garden only knows
How to sleep beneath the floor
And wait behind the painted door

The cup remembers being sea
The chair remembers being tree
The clock remembers coming loose
The mirror keeps a violet bruise

After the colors fold away
They do not truly go away
I sit beside the window stone
And know the room is not my own

The birds are birds, the walls are walls
The morning through the curtain falls
But something small behind my eyes
Still watches every shape arise