‘Reality’ is an empty promise

A word manufactured and fitted

To address this infectious disease

Us humans call life

Because material items,

Deeply rooted beliefs,

And honest emotions,

Only exist within our heads

And if my perception were to be so askew

As to deem myself dead

Then I’m living in the 7th ring of hell

We are fragments of projected images

A wasteland for forgotten dreams,

Useless prototypes,

From the stars that shine in our imaginary minds

We are just fragments of a masterpiece

That we cannot even see

Ghosts of my mind
Shouts at                          me
through gritted teeth
Bloodshot eyes                   tomorrow
Will be better they said
/////
They also said
                 The sun revolved around the
Earth
What will they come up with next
                        Like
How
                                     I am
Going
                  Crazy?
Absolutely
insane
They said
/////
Meet me in the garden
              The bluebells whispering secrets to the bees
   Not again
                              Let the moon strangle you
               But just wait
For
Me

Crumbled pillars tell the story of strength and perseverance
They tell the story of grave defeat
And the remnants from the weakest link

I am there
Like a dove on a wire
Forget the past comes with baggage
Inhale the sawdust from my hands

Want to be dirt with me?
Insignificant and everywhere
We can disperse into the holes
Left awry in the cages of our chests

Tell me do you want to
Scrape away the poison words
Those insidious parasites
That feed off your intelligence

You are not as important as you deem to be
Be careful
Your honesty is showing

“Love does not exist”

“Love is ****”

“Love is just a word that we make up in our heads to fill our infinite emptiness”,

Is what I say to myself. As if I could drill these beliefs into my head, subliminal messages to soothe my cracked and flaking heart.

These lungs are my own personal generator fueling my skull

Turbines working overtime

Maybe love is the only tangible idea within this existence

Maybe I am just scared

So I bury the idea under the earth, waiting for the tree roots to weave themselves throughout my love

And sprouting a small, delicate oak tree. And one day, it will grow.

And like all flowers or trees, this seed will need water

and plenty of sunshine

These words can only mean so much
As they clumsily slip off my lips
Losing their meaning as they enter the world
And your confused expression
Contours into regret
Because you wish I had not said it
My drunken babble
But I meant those sloppy words
They were every bit true
But I should have just kept quiet
Then I might still have you