i blink big blankness, blue and brightly bent

omnidimensional yet as flat as everything else

no shadows only that spot that’s always sneaking, the smear you say you see but know, sentiently, isn’t something

isn’t anything at all

that spot is the sense of all that isn’t sinister

to me, all of my adroitness is formed shapelessly 

is blinded by only my own laziness, droops or drops or doesn’t mind

my right limbs are strong but when i am exhausted their strength is a menace and i wish they were as feeble and slow to act as the limbs which i have left. i disassociated and let my strong foot slip down and a car roared into life, leaving me screaming and then scrambling to lie, while my right eye saw nothing and my left hand flapped in the air, distressed but useless. an entire half of the world is left out by my body, by some process seemingly intended, which i can drive, can override but usually am a passenger to anyway. instead the blankness sometimes asserts itself to me, a spot which either smears out the center or makes a cyclops of my field, a view of blue blue sky, laying the grass with half your face smashed forever into the dirt.