My Eyes Are A Desert

My eyes are a desert,
Parched and arid.
The water evaporated by gusts of wind and the A/C set on low.
My eyes are a desert, seeing nothing and everything.
Dry from staring too long
And cracked from not opening them enough.
My eyes are a desert,
Moistened only by the morning dew, teardrops that sizzle out before they reach the sun,
By rain that never falls lightly and stale, salty water that only stings.
My eyes are a desert,
Gritty and bright.
Brown and vast.
Open and lonely.