You have plastered my eyelids open 

Non contact tonometry

Force fed with gavage until I no longer awake 

at the smell of burning grease.

Burrowed into retinas like a small flaming needle,

I’m afraid of the dark

And the art

I haven’t made

The places not stayed

And the overstayed welcomes I

Know not to inhale the stratosphere keep

Both feet on the ground

And look straight ahead