What is real? I gave up the search.
Is it the breeze the fan makes
Or the pictures of you sitting on the perch;
The glow-in-the-dark stars that hang from my ceiling
(why are they to me still unknown)
The flowers that Winnie the Pooh holds
Mom's smiling face blinking on my phone?
Are you - even the I that speaks-
("you have such beautiful EyEs!")
real enough to be touched;
Touched, reached, moved?
Are you the- Aye sir, I quote-
"drunken vainglorious lout"
No, you are the one spitting words off of an unwashed mouth!
I - an Oedipus now- ran away but closer to my fate
The same one, yes sir that very one,
the one I had once so easily tamed.
The clock ticks, nothing seems to change anymore
except the fading emotions-unsmiling-
refuse to even feel sore.
Thus lies a pathetic rhyme on a pathetic moment in life
Is a naught now what had been once a rife.