Real’s Not Real
written by: Jenny Morelli
On an evening stroll
through a misty-dense fog,
my outstretched fingers
disturb the hanging skulls;
hanging skulls on my neighbor’s tree,
all smooth and white and plasticky.
They dangle and tangle from thin wire tethers
all watching and waiting and dancing in the evening mist.
They chit and chatter, grin and giggle;
hiss, gnash, cackle, and sneer. Their eyeball-
depleted sockets follow me, track me, shifting, turning,
swaying and swinging, chiding and chanting their innocuous diddy
Real’s not real
and truth’s not truth.
We see with no eyes
and hear with no ears.
As I return home, the night wind blows
carrying their collective chorus.
It floats and hovers, clings to me,
cloaks me as I slip inside;
Seeps into my walls,
worms into my ears,
tendrils of terror taunting my trepidation
severing my sanity.
Inside’s out and outside’s in
and real’s not real and truth’s not truth
and ears don’t hear and eyes don’t see, and soon
You’ll join us in this doomed and damned tree.
They sing and seduce
in the moonlight madness
’til I lose my mind
and when the morning wind blows,
I’m floating and dangling, tangling and shifting,
Turning and swaying and swinging;
I’m grinning and gnashing, chiding and chanting,
delighting in morning dew gleaming in sunbeam.
Smooth white plastic props?
Oh, no. Not us.
We’re watching and waiting
Because…
Real’s not real
and truth’s not truth.
We see with no eyes
and hear with no ears.
Our insides are out, our outsides are in.
Our ears don’t hear and our eyes
don’t see and soon you’ll join us
in this doomed and damned tree.
- Real’s Not Real - October 24, 2025
- My Universe - October 9, 2025
- The Pages of My Life - June 30, 2025
