Imagining my existence

Picture yourself in a room full of angels, candles floating upside down.
The flames are burning straight down and all heavens above.
Future and the past are intertwining in an everlasting dance,
come to think of it my mind is floating toward an obnoxious end.

Imagining my existence or shake a hand to close a pact,
saying hello is too easy,

is this fiction or is this fact.

The room I’m sitting in the walls are painted, undepictive colors and shades,
light is falling away to the floor, full of empty spaces.
A table and a chair and a door at the far end,
leading into strange places,
the book I’m writing fills up with empty pages.

is this fiction or is this fact.

Drinking the wine I’ve poured myself a little later,
easily forgetting the times I’ve ever wasted.
Light is flickering and I ain’t so sure,
are they stars or just faces.

A light breeze is brushing against my face,
so familiar that a name would be an insult.
Never sure I’m telling a lie or just
Imagining my existence.

Or shake a hand to close a pact,
saying hello is too easy. Is this fiction or is this fact.

Is this fiction or is this fact.