I Am Empty, Empty Eyes Switch

Wild ideas, never shown. Deep sorrows never known!
What a wreck I am furrow frown, strains in head "so alone".
20 bells I hear, the sound is different to me now
as ears, dirt and rocks share the frame I crown.
Fingers do a better stint of listening with tyro trial.
Bellowing cows are fruit slices of beaks and loud crows
Frightened by the gallop and cape, no longer hairs raised on nape
Instead, Eros is an empty transport, to gold seedlings of concerned distort.
Harps fly and pluck, no sounds, despair and questions brute care of scorn.
Mirrored eyes pound, no heart beat, sockets open and no sunlight leaks.
The omnipresent weight on the chest, its halting blood drop by drip.
Drops are wagonloads of kettles, steam driven insults waterless vitals.
Where is my ragged breath...? The notice has finally touched me yet.
Myself so empty of words, my death finally in consented blur.
Sensational attendants by the mass, script flesh with calligraphy blended to grass.