Talkative people and silent movers
stalk their sleep without a peep.
sinking and rolling, never really knowing
if ground is up and if down is round.
Reality fades into managing days
tumbling past, fearing the last.
Lines blur and I begin to slur
Who am I?
What do I do?
jumping and bouncing is for babies
rolling and moaning is for dogs
I am an adult, see my claws?
Whisper quietly now, tick tick tick.
Tip toe quietly now, tock tock tock.
Quiet feet and silent glances
Death is more lively than I.