Cracks appear in reality -
Synchrocity run rampant
Like a waistcoated rabbit...
You probably catch the Alice ref,
Like so many other meme-drops
Pulled from the pop fabric...
How do I uncover the real,
The truths like diamonds in the sky,
Hiding under so many layers of stories
Shoved upon our experience,
Coloring our glasses
And leaving us gasping for originality?
Is it an original twist,
If the story's taken out of context
Or if it happens to a new character?
Or is everything just a grand cosplay,
Where we're doomed to repeat history
Because we feel comfortable
Living former lives
Like the domesticated housewife
Or the workaholic father?
Some people get so wrapped up
In the soap operas and novellas...
Others just love the guns and violence...
And I probably quite favor the absurd.
Now, I just feel like I'm grinding again,
Writing because I don't want to sleep -
It's becoming harder
To distinguish
Dreams
From reality
Or nightmares.
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