Our world is slowly dying, I'm wasting no more time.

"Believing something existed and then finding out it didn't was like reaching the top of the stairs and thinking there was one more step."
— Francesca Zappia, Made You Up.

————————

Little paw prints fills the floor.
Tiny and careful with each step,
life has been bestowed upon the little one
who involuntarily ventures into the world of the unknown.
Life is wrapped in a world of magic and madness.

Every day can be filled up with joy and laughter;
the wonders and fun in breathing
can be thoroughly enjoyed.
Every last sanity contained fragility;
weakness is not acceptable
as a form of shame.
Kitty didn't belong to the litter

the instant she was brought into this world.

She observed a lot, and spoke little.
Yearning for closure, yet afraid to know;
to make damn sure was one of the biggest
and most terrifying thought at the back of the head.

Knowing didn't mean anything.
The perception of an individualistic reality as facts
differed greatly from the actual truth.
Nonetheless, what might appear to be a truth
could in fact be collective facts
derived from misguided judgments.
Nothing was every easy,
and fear didn't help.
There is nothing to be afraid of,
yet knowing about a possible closure stings
and burns beyond recovery and repair.

Being obsessed with closure
didn't offer anything close to relief.
Lying under the sheets was assumed to provide comfort.
Lying in bed under the sheets
and covering up the entire body
as though the bedroom had somehow
turned into a morgue.
The ambiance had changed,
and the tears stopped coming out;
the room was silent,
but the voices were screaming out.
So much was occurring at that moment,
yet no one could hear them,
and no one could feel them.
They were like evil spirits that didn't go away,
except that they weren't perceived as spirits.
Lying beneath the sheets in a safe haven,
a belief that one could be in control of dream
through having vivid dreams arose.
Reality gradually became to appear
too close to lucid dreaming.
It was a wonder how it was possible
to have actual control and full autonomy
within every dream.
Fighting for whatever it was worth,
the voices chimed unanimously.
There were cheers and confetti.
There were champagne bottles on standby.
There were visions of an after-party.
There was a finishing line right ahead.

Making a detour from the end point,
the journey continued briskly.
Perhaps there was something which ticked,
sparking a realisation that the delusions were fortified.

Anxiety began to fade slightly
as living in a dream appeared more tempting.
Was there really a need for anything at all?

————————

M.

Don't think I could believe you.
Our hands will get more wrinkled
And our hair will be grey
Don't think I could forgive you.