or lackthereof

Life is not real.
This is all imagination.
Those feet you walk upon,
Just a figment of a figment,
Of some transcendent experience,
Someone up
There decided to create.
Those eyes you seem to see with,
Simply, a myriad of mirrors,
Cynical rods and superfluous cones,
Ignorantly, they bounce
those incandescent fragments of
His/Her light
Those, luminous rays, of which reflect back emptiness,
with a vengeance so pure-
It is magical.
Yet, I am not saddened, for
These are all just mirages,
Our memories of times past,
Time warped illusions,
We are trapped in our own heads.
those pink lips,
i had kissed a few weeks back,
they tasted so sinfully sweet-
full of that sugar filled fiction,
Bubbly self-centered affliction-
An imitation of passion, with a nonexistent price-
You and i
Are not together, now or ever
deceased before we were born.
Swimming
While drowning,
in those gaseous stars, we landed (w)here
by mistake.
It would seem only natural
To hate everybody.
everything.
For never letting you know, every action was a waste
Of Newton’s theories,
no(thing) is the only
thing i can express,
hatred, which I had bred
.dispersed.
love, ..............................
kindness,
dwindled
like our hope,
long ago-
in a time
back when clocks actually ticked and
seasons changed.
when his eyes gleamed, and turned back.
now, my eyes gleam
but with tears,
his face, glaring.
i am not here
neither are you.
just remember that the next time
you dream,
you fall head first from that burning bridge
called life
or lack thereof.