Diostorted replica

 

I should know

this street.

I've lived here

all my life,

so why

do the stones

feel so different

under my feet?

I feel my

nervous system

kicking in.

How can I trust anything?

 

As I glance at the buildings

the details are revealing

things I've never seen,

not with these eyes.

I feel like I've flipped

to a reality

just a little

to the side.

Everything feels

just a tad askew.

I can't even trust

my deceptive shadow.

So how can I trust you?

 

Oxygen is suffocating,

breathing in toxicity,

drinking in 

this intoxicating city,

the twisted reality.

Blinking.

It's obnoxious

the way the light

bounds tightly

around your neck.

Linking

a light chain halo

held too low.

If I don't keep it in check

It'll become a noose

or a lasso.

So how can I trust you?

I think to myself.

 

Things seem different,

yet so similar,

like we were torn

from the world

and reborn

into a replica.

Distorted ripples

flowing

like waves 

over everything.

I Listen 

to the monstrous

echoing choir sing.

How can I trust anything?

I think to myself.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle