Cryptic Illusions, Delusions Poem by Vanessa Kingsley

Appeased and happy to have let it go. Gingerly, the truth and the lie float to the ground to be trampled upon and the stirred into the air once more. Only this time…we’re appalled to find we cannot distinguish between the lie and the truth. Somehow they’ve become mixed together. Neither truly making sense. We create these worlds and they become part of our chattel. A part of who we are so that we may escape the pogrom of which we call life; of which we call reality.
Stupidly, we try to enjoy the zeal of our fantasy. Our delusion. Conspicuously, we fortify that dream, that fake illusion.
Unabashed, we live as if it’s real. We live ostentatiously in a world that is not a world but rather a collaboration of different ideas and thoughts and delusions. So perhaps that is the real world? A world where reality doesn’t really exist. The only thing that exists is what we speak and write and think and express. The only thing that exists is what we believe exist. Sure we may be lying to ourselves, confusing and twisting the truth into a lie or a lie into the truth. But in the end…it exists. Right?