...

there is no respite here,
crouched in the shadow of your words,
afraid to read ahead,
fearing the future,
actions imitate words,
reality thoughts,

mind read,
and read again,
dog-eared,
tattered,
bent, and
yellow,

thoughts captured,
in black and white banality,
some gray,
abundant red,
mocked,
discarded

and i sit here,
with the faint ringing of the distant bell,
foretelling, foreboding,
preserving, persevering,
this reality,
this fantasy,

this fantastic reality.