Still trying to fathom
the chasm
of reality and fiction
the distance between
the living dream
I've been lost for years
at most the spears
that hold me down
adorn my crown
a constant fixture
jewels of desire
the perfect picture
that’s seldom mired
by light of truth
a lazy excuse
to live like leeches
comfort creatures
from mouth to ***
no need to ask
what happened
why we’re weapons
of mass consumption
our function
to eat and breed
is all we need
from Eden we fled
not even the bread
of salvation
could quench our greed
so heavens door
remains shut
we’re out of luck
doomed to repeat the past
to remain within the vast
expansion between
reality and fiction
which some have christened
the living dream.