:ILLUSIONS:

I live in a world of dense illusions,
bi-fold walls, images in triplicate.
7-way compression of reality,
aural distortion to infinity.

Not admitting things aloud
/or even to myself/
so that I can keep shaping
the world I've drawn around me.

There are 72 versions of me
and not a single copy is complete.
I exist somewhere deep, wrapped carefully,
somewhere that no one will ever find me.

To make everything beautiful,
special; craft it so carefully.
I don't trust my own words.
These instincts twist and hurt
through painting false pictures
that seem so real until
the paint bubbles and runs.

Do you still wonder,
"Who was that person?"
Or was there enough
for you to see me
after all those years?

You were the last person
I ever wished to fail.
You did try to believe.
But you couldn't love me
the way that I loved you.
I wasn't good enough
once again, once again.

I keep waking up to
a world that I don't want,
a life that just drags on.

So many times
I said-I said-I said--
and I broke my promise.
No matter what you said or did,
I will always regret it.

You made me believe in
that which does not exist.
If it gets worse than this
don't let me know.
/You let me go./

All of my words die
before I speak them.
Right before my eyes
they became untrue,
shape-shifting just like
specters of the dead;
demonic butterflies
that engulfed our world.

I wanted to be your dream
but became your nightmare instead.
Do you remember when I said
you were the best thing that
had ever happened to me?
You said you couldn't lie and
say the same thing about me.

So I put my masks back on,
sinking into illusions
that cloak everything that's gone.
True or false,
black or white,
dead or alive;
I can't tell
the difference
anymore.