While musing

I had in mind, my crooked front teeth, brittle, scaling teeth, and also, the eyes of that girl, the eyes, the eyes, i've got something for the eyes, the unexpressive eyes, because it's not the eyes that display, and let us sense the emotions on a visage, it's the stretching, rolling, and creased flesh all around.
The eyes are like jewels, polished, cold and beautiful jewels, abstruse as galaxies, tainted marbles, mysterious puzzle of light and colors, eyes are nothing more than dull abstract beauty.

(ask me which eyes, in that dream it was those of beth thomas, the child of rage, set on the body of that luscious girl i knew, dreams make strange combinations, and one thought during the day made me remember it, "eyes are little and pretentious collectibles like that")