Words We Cannot Speak

Reality TV

I am talking to myself
When i have incessantly been warned to never talk to strangers;
This thrill seeking is soul searching
(Who am I?).

When the hands that connect to my wrists no longer seem to be my hands, i know that i am disconnecting;
Slipping between parallel universes.
Time travel and alternate reality skipping can distort cosmic happenings
But sometimes there are butterflies and no hurricanes
And that is when the destruction is the greatest.

Reality is a dream,
Played on TVs that humans refer to as "eyes".
Right now I want to switch the channel
But i have lost the control
(Over my limbs and thoughts and memories and breaths).

My ceiling seems more of a ceiling and less of a masterpiece
When i lie on old hope
And try not to blink goodness away.
(I am better at holding my breath).

I am running to a stand still;
I fear that my legs aren't moving, my heart hardly beating
When i crave the feeling of wanted adrenaline reviving my cells.

My molecules are made of star dust but they don't shine or glow or twinkle in moonlight.

Everything is falling apart,
No, the world is not ending,
But this is the end of my world as i know it.

I have become accustomed to the decay;
cracks and splinters on the surface are seemingly beautiful
But not when they scar my bundle of nerves
Which sits in a coffin of bone.

Fiction is a warm embrace,
Because the film that is playing is far too real
When it is belonging to me.
-by holly boyd