Hearing voices through the walls

who is there?

who does call?

the fabric of existence wavering

on the tips of my fingers

a vertical stream

such a delicate block

an intrusion to the air

reality lost within its wake

shaking intensity

shimmering delusion

the calls almost flattering

banging the drums

in my ears

in the middle of nowhere

i float in dedicated hope

that the surreal will disappear

on the wind of change

the song of imaginative glory

fall around and turn to truth

the ash and blame

disintegrated

done and buried

spiraling signals breaking through

i need this false hood

to bleed on through

and signify my life