You Should Be Living

In your echo chamber you examine the walls
with the only tools that you think you possess.
But your heartbeat’s timing, it rises and falls.
The imaginary structure becomes such a mess.

If only you could reach out and touch what is real.
If only for a moment, to feel.

In your waking coma you are listening in
to familiar strangers at the side of your bed.
They are vultures watching for a flickering lid.
They are judge and gavel for the things in your head

If only you could show them the final reveal.
If only for a moment, to heal.

The mud over your eyes was meant to fall like scales.
It wasn’t meant to hide your life and world in braille.