The Simulation
The coincidences make themselves known
That poet died on the same day I read her confessions aloud for my father
Who doesn't care for black shoes and evergreen memory
The scratching haunts me
Irony exists to annoy me
The sky looks pastel then depressing, mourning blackness seeps in
Facts and figures that must be wrong
There used to be a birthmark on her left ear I swear
And his eyes have never been that clear
And I never feel older by and by each year
I try and try but the letters won't connect
My words hitch themselves to each other and stumble down the hill
Oh there wasn't a crack in that book's spine yesterday
My own room betrays my confidence
The painting is crooked, and the letters are confused
Time is a concept and deja vu is so common
Coincedence is commonplace, my mind rests, eyes race
Oppositely, opposition, overwhelmingly awful
I always wish I wasn't here