Elapse (A mystical poem)

Staring at the haunted faces,
Of screen-marked skulls,
I realise immediately,
That there is a deeper curve to dreams
Than we might care to admit.

There are no visions, only vibrations.
There are no surfaces, only symbols.
There are no selves, only you
You,
You,
You are the only audience
Worth clapping for.
You are the only thing that
Separates the dream from the real.

A “real” that will bear womb(s)
To legions of innocent children
Released into neatly coloured
Fashion collections
To be witnessed. Adored. Photographed.
And never cared for.

A “real” whose inhabitants,
Take pride in the honourable act of
Enjoying themselves to death.

You reminded me of how only
The most potent of poisons,
Always have the best taste.

And I,
Having removed myself from
The pitfalls of pity,
Now witness the world calmly
Behind my glass case,
Firmly feeling the grains of my suffering
Elapse,
Into nothingness.