Irony of non-existence (new title and edit)

[billy]

captured in the...pigpen

after a quick shufti, you have some spacing problems. for me it also felt there was an amount of excess. the first line could be stronger in order to draw the reader in; we are not really here at all; i found that after a few reads it improved. making early xmas dinner so rushing here. over all i enjoyed the questioning of the piece, for me it states we are more than "we are not" and it's one of the reasons i like it.

As I thought, it seems we are not really here at all;
phantoms, ephemeral and empty of all we think we are.
The loves we have, the music in our lives,
cheese, wine and thrills of falling, pounding headaches, i like the use of falling and pounding next to each other.
sensuality...even orgasmic breath is not reality.Reality?
Perhaps there is no word, no reason to explode
in to the fleshy fold...betrayal, then,
of what we thinkwe hold. A hand, a cupping
of a massy breast,a gentle hand to steer us does massy mean big or large?
when we cross a road;the solid thump of glass
upon the ale-house baror cold, cold ice
that points and drops from guttered rooves. should it be roofs, i know it used to be rooves which i find more pleasing
All this is but illusion like the wind; that blows in  trees,
that carries from the string a melody, music most profound. lovely line, why is it lovely, it's lovely because it's a bit tingly when read.
Surely this, this vibratory score, this tear induced to fall, and another.
this heightened sense of what it is to feel....is real?
But no...we are a quantum field. Matter mattering so little
as to not disturb the passage or the vectored time.
We war and love and kill and thrill and die and hurt,
we make-believe and fantasise, we dream our dreams
inside another self; not sharing what we need not share
nor caring when we need not care, not loving
when we have no need to love...and yet, and yet,
we think ourselves in to a world, a time and space continuum,
a framework where such wild beliefs support the thought
that we are here. Where, though, is here?
And am in or out  of you, as you are but a part of me...
a timeless, tangled, twisting string
that holds the phantoms in a ring,
captured in the...

tectak2016