mind games, delusions –

who said anything about reality?

when it bends like the willow,

belief scorched hot; brought from a seed,

do not question the soil.

up comes the sprout, green leaf basking in the

false sun;

tarnished: black heart grasping for life.

not yours.

fingers cold with sweat, a lying face, a truthful

pen;

inks splash on walls, the belief is like an oak

unbending.

how strong, how mighty,

the leaves have now turned dark green, then yellow,

falling, decomposing

to greedy earth; reliving another past

of murky faces, fogs become walls

then walls too crumble and a strangled

cry pierces the night.

mind unbending now,

refusing to play poker, the flesh contorts,

makes faces because it can.

am i real?

are you?

the flesh makes another posture, another grin,

this is just a leaf turning.

nourished by fake warmth, the enormous heart

towers like a spire.

eager to look into the future,

plotting, charting, planning

till the night takes back what belongs

to her.

it is not light she chided,

just a reflection,

the skin sheds off, the snake has grown once again,

till the earth no longer recognizes this life.

who are you?

and the memories of skin, of mind replays

as one deception evolves into the final stages.

nothing earned, nothing given,

a fat swollen disease that looks similar

to the sun that never gave warmth.