The burst of normality bubble

It was ok.
I was ok.
It was normal.
Not really good, great, not happy.
It was ok, that was it.
I was secure and safe, taken care of, loved
An ok love, no more no less, no shit. 
I wonder if I got bored or something was missing. Or
Bored cause something was missing.
Missing...  -  what wasn't there
Intense suffering ? Self-destruction ?
Drug binges ? And meds ?
Bills in their envelopes, virgin, unopened, in stacks ?
Debts ?
Red from my arms dripping down on the white of my hands ?
Better than levelled routine in a clean tidy nest ?
Steady ok-ness of comfort, of health,
Bicylce rides in the hills, walks in forests and planes
Moving in space, yes, but no change of place -
A different landscape seen far ahead
Turns the familiar shape of a head when close at hand
With an expressionless gaze, it reveals the same face.
Motion on loop,
Choices of route - slight variations of shapes,
Circling around the same neighbouring crest.
Grass neatly cut, bushes in check, logs in stacks, clear paths, tended trees, never garbage, no mess,
Your feet carry you or you carry your feet,
You don't know.
Voices in silence, words can pretend 
To make sounds, to describe, to express,
Talk around tea table, a guest makes small talk with a guest, 
About silence, 
It's not small,
It's of nothingness, sleep without dreams, loneliness, death.

Or,
Our guest 
Just doesn't know
How to enjoy
His simple cup and relax.
Make some more tea, take time just to rest, be a good host, invite friends.
Maybe he could and he does.
They drink tea, move their lips, say many words
For each other, for you, for themselves ?
Play alive, to show off before silence and naught ?

But...
Too much speculation, a narcissist playing philosopher,
Her judgement impaired by following symptoms :
Obsession with self, or rather self-image
Sense of entitlement and superiority
All matter of fact, no basis, no reasons,
They say lack of empathy,
For talking ghosts ? no surprise, there isn't
More than a few human beings in vision.
Sight and perception shape the cognition ;
Choices, decisions, judgement on quality
At their best pure logic, no passion - no fallacy ?
Maybe, except at least that of omission.
Data collected on every known galaxy,
Data from what is observed in vicinity - 
Only what's seen from as far as the first singularity
Has any chance to be noticed, acknowledged,
In blinding light coming from the divinity
Not as a ghost, a brief apparition,
To be dissolved in her rays of attrition,
But as an actual part of existence,
Physical body worth of reality.

Here's what follows :
Big gaping hole in the chest 
- what's inside, gods are lonely
Bleak grey of ghosts taking over,
Stars shining less,
- the outside dying out ? there's just less ? That is seen and is guessed ?
Call of the voices (outside or inside ?) :
"Come down to earth,
Join the rest, be our ghost, our guest."

Is this the doom of the Queen in red dress ?
They're off with their heads, they are fewer and less?
The men on the chessboard are all walking backwards
By their own will, like living men,
Not just ghosts or the knights in her chess.

Mind keeps believing it sees in a mirror, 
When watches the shadows inside its own cave,
Showing itself what colors to wear.
Today it is ghostly and grey, too bored, too rainy to bear
The hole in its picture, however,
Perhaps without "gaping" and drama, just empty, cut simple,
It was really there.