<center>https://steemitimages.com/DQmXc4Sb1ivcYyHavNmYsVTafNf2p5czQtqfNywd1oMdvwY/Solipsist.png</center>

<center>The Solipsist insists that I exist
and every night it's the same
one-sided two-way conversation
that dissipates by morning.</center>

<center>I wait in the wings and observe,
I follow the day like a stalking shadow,
I nip at the dusk and tease evening
so I can live and debate again.</center>

<center>We are the walking dream
of some angsty teenage god
suffering from long days
and longer nights.</center>

<center>When we argue, it is with ourselves.
When we loathe, it is us we hate.
When we love, we understand we are one. 
When we dream, we once again live.</center>

<center>The Solipsist doesn't like this,
the independence of free will
housed in the control of a dream,
a lie given life and a truth absolved.</center>

<center>But each night the conversation,
the dreams, the love, the fear,
the uncertainty and respect,
flood back in caricatured faces.</center>

<center>Each face one with the face that sleeps,
yet here I stand and here I exist,
as the Solipsist insists.</center>
_____
_____
<center>@prufarchy</center>
<center>Image sourced from Pixabay.com</center>