How Long Would It Take

How long would it take,

To notice the fabric of your reality disintegrate?

How long before your eyes connot comprehend what they see,

Or maybe they just mistrust and disbelieve?

I missed the first, second, and third —

The subtle signs that slip a distracted mind,

Really, who would notice a storefront has changed overnight?

When budgeting for water and light?

With friends, I mention a childhood cartoon, one well known,

They look at me strangely, they don't recall,

They scour the internet to prove, in this memory, I am alone,

I notice how quiet the sky is, I ask — where are the birds?

Birds?

What are birds?

Songs I like are incomprehensible,

They bob their head to a beat I used to remember,

But I can only hear an inhuman score of static in a blender,

Time is skipping, her record ripping,

Have we met before? Do you know me?

Yes, we met ten minutes ago —

What did you say?

What did you say?

Babylon again, and it's easier to be silent now,

Than it is to pretend,

Everyone seems very concerned for me,

But why don't they cry for a sun that isn't warm, or the stillness of the sea?

Why aren't they scared of the quiet, the cold, the erasure of sense,

Replaced with an utter lack of what used to be?

Soon, before I can try to fathom what, why, how long —

There is only nothing, and me to dwell in it,

There is no sound, color, texture, or anything resemblant,

And I do forget,

What any of that was,

To begin with.