Cruel Reality

What is it that governs your reality?

This incessant obtrusive aggressive

real world that never stops.

Like an Apple sessions speaker

who has something to say,

who won’t stop talking.

But is she heard, is she seen, is she real?

What is it that separates you from reality?

This sweet rational comforting reality

surely follows a logical pattern.

It doesn’t seem like she cares if she’s heard, seen, or felt

She goes on outside, like 4 pm traffic,

but what happens when you pull up to the curb?

Is mine different from yours?

False illusive repetitive reality

What if mine doesn’t fit here?

What if this blind stupid belief in goodness wanes

and all that’s left is the dark side of the moon and on top of it,

a footstep I don’t recognize,

A footstep I refuse to accept,

A footstep that won’t fit.

What if she isn’t real at all?

What if the first lie she tells is her name

And the second, yours.

You succumb to the vices of this

super natural supernatural being when

she compares your blindness with talent.

But what happens when you see that the

only thing separating her from a specter is

your willingness to believe her

Hear her

See her

Feel her

Blind, stupid reality

Incongruous with what I see, reality

Rose colored reality

could this really be?

reality?