Luyện nghe bài hát The Jeweller

Very slowly he his tea
Not shifting his glance from the double
Spaced printing he read with his eye

in his corner
He passed onto the other of the room
A scrawled insularity of and space

For both passed him by with the of light
Not unlike the of substance however varied
Into lysergic entity known as the black hole

He was ugly for his time
And conversation was certainly not on him
measures were called for
And as in antiquity the lonely man was
With wisdom to the point of

But there in his corner, around him
Like a sun was a climate of such rare
That sight and sound could no longer be
food for the senses

And he had to notice as his hearing failed
That mind and matter in no way connected to one other
As if in fact the one could not propose and
Its erotic existence in of the other

"What does this mean?"
He enquired of the waiter hopefully
"Nothing for sir", came the reply
"Perhaps a cocktail, demitasse or a essence
It the breathing you know sometimes"
"The bill, if you don't mind", he shot back

And as the patter of the faded in the room
For he barely heard them now, his eye slowly began to
And by the time he on the sunny street
He was forced to rely on the other eye for help

But it continued its many functions
Blinking gently for lubrication and registering
It was rush hour in only ten a.m.

So turning his street
He stopped at the drug store and bought an eye
That soon the reluctant eye

Climbing the he pondered what to do next
He would call a doctor and have made
Eat nourishing food and if consent to surgery
The last resort of the man

And at one a.m. he awoke from a
And after fumbling his way in the obsolescent of his room
He into the rusty veins of his mirror
And lifted the patch, what he saw astonished him

Where once was tissue and membrane
Was now a follicle and perfectly formed with vulva
Overgrown and mysterious, and still to the untrained eye

But in the deep dark recesses of that occlusion
Lay the unclosing eye of disgust in its closing moments
Lunging and hungry for the cold light of days