Phantasm Poem by Cheyenne Rhon

A reflection will never admit you're just the copy because no one is willing to break character in this game of mockery. Not even hesitation for the combination of mismatched outerwear or the placement of pins in unmanageable hair. This parallel universe is a translucent quilt stretched out in accord. The stitches mimic distorted qualities that stare into a shade of obscurity. I've lounged on the placid blankness of synchronization, adding on layers of copy-cat gestures. Then, yanking back every theory down to the springs in an unconscious sleep. So I concluded, an appearance is dependent on each other's death so I hold my breath to witness the steady tearing of oblivion.