"Tearing At The Flesh Of Reality"

Reality can render life unkind.
It shrinks around you like a collapsing bubble.
Slowly losing air through the thousands of pin holes,
your actions have created in this life you live.
Yet it's smooth walls are like pitch.
leaving the only real illumination in life,
emanating from those tiny holes in reality's dark membrane.

It seems the more you scratch and tear at those holes,
trying your whole life to witness what lies beyond your existence.
The less light there seems to be for which to see those choices,
Yet all the more air there is to breath and thus to live.

In the darkness within, eyes seem to fade white.
Essence made milky by the lack of vision.
Their perspective distorted by consistency.
The thirst lost, for answers sacrificed,
as the stale air extinguishes the soul,
leaving the shell, without the being it once housed.

But the ever shrinking universe that is our reality,
Is warm and comfortable with familiarity.
Like the womb of a caring mother, it grants us peace.
Human nature makes it all too easy to leave us little choice,
but to curl up in the black and embrace it's temptation.

For to resist the dark and tear through those holes,
is to invite the horrible pains we must first endure,
as we break free from the chains that bind us to this realm.
Giving birth to another life, where the eyes can finally see,
without the bubble's twisted distortions.