The Simulation

The coincidences make themselves known

That poet died on the same day I read her confessions aloud for my father

Who doesn't care for black shoes and evergreen memory

The scratching haunts me

Irony exists to annoy me

The sky looks pastel then depressing, mourning blackness seeps in

Facts and figures that must be wrong

There used to be a birthmark on her left ear I swear

And his eyes have never been that clear

And I never feel older by and by each year

I try and try but the letters won't connect

My words hitch themselves to each other and stumble down the hill

Oh there wasn't a crack in that book's spine yesterday

My own room betrays my confidence

The painting is crooked, and the letters are confused

Time is a concept and deja vu is so common

Coincedence is commonplace, my mind rests, eyes race

Oppositely, opposition, overwhelmingly awful

I always wish I wasn't here