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.