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                     I tried to define
                           r. e. a. l.
                              i. t. y.

and found myself dreaming of it.
The dream was of myself in real time.
You were there, weren’t you?
And him? And him? And him, too?

And when I fell, I could’ve sworn I wasn’t real.
I’m still not quite too sure.
I just hold your hand
(or whatever’s underneath mine)
and squeeze when I get lost.
Like an anchor to reality
(or whatever this is)
you bring me back...
but I’m not sure where.

I think I’m still in my mind
trapped within these tiers of thought.
What I think is what I say.
But I still think, and in those thoughts
I’m so aware.

Our lives are merely seconds
to God,
slowed down to the billionths.

Darling,

there’s nothing to be scared of,
there’s nothing out to harm you.
They’ve all been here so much longer.
But what is time anyway?
Numbers someone made up years ago;
but time existed before then.
And who decided to put these letters together
in that exact order to name it “time”?
With letters someone made up years ago;
but thought existed long before then.

Did God create language and implant it in our brains?
Who named Heaven anyway?
My words sometimes scare me. How do I know to write them?


           You say you live in
           r.       a.       i.       y.
                 e.       l.       t.      

but what is it anyway?
We all live {love} in a world of make-believe
and
pretending.
Your business suit means nothing in Heaven.