The Illusionary Reality of Reality

Everything is Perfect. They say,

everything is Fine.

Then pour you another cup of that

Cherry Picker’s wine.

Soon you’re on the rooftop. Boy,

they say, you’re high!

Slap each other on the back

as you whisper your Goodbyes.

Never had a thing, aint noboby anyhow—

and watched the movies, too!

Thought yourself a Jesus but so utterly alone.

What use was Quiet Goodness, what use was

Patient Understanding, when everyone is leaving—

tired of the waiting.

Even the breeze, there to help you down,

shipped off to a better part of town!

You can see the gravel

and feel the Gravity.

Never made a choice;

you were a

cavity.