These scenarios play out in my head
‘What if I’m really dead?’
What if this emotion is only a dream,
A dramatic play, scientific cause and effect,
A holographic to and fro, a dance of atoms and dark matters
Between the beats of the clock
Time spiralling down, tick after tock.
‘What if I’m not real?’
All these senses, just inventions, and there’s nothing to feel.
A numbness stretching out and back
As far as I see. But the seeing ain’t seeing
Because this existence ain’t me.
All the flesh and blood fumbling to make a mark
When it’s pitch black, just black, nothing but dark.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.