Fiction is not reality

The moon decomposes into a white gas
that feeds through the kitchen sink, and through the windows.
Giving the darkness a trim of light.

Creating unexplored boundries beyond the
glowing edge of the kitchen. Where a table
sleeps, fully clothed with plates and patterns of
still steaming food.

When touched, they fade and become white gas.
Rolling into the living room as it spreads out,
wrapping itself around the phone to lead unspoken
words back to the kitchen; where they may be eaten.

Silence is an apathetic love of honesty,
like you wouldn't come to dinner late
you wouldn't lie to a deaf man, while
knowing that he already can't hear the truth.

The sun rises and sublimes into the
telephone lines, calling the deaf man
to another world.

So, overall I like this. Great imagery, and I like the bit about lying to a deaf man. But first of all, I have to say: I kinda rolled my eyes when I saw the title. "Fiction is not reality." That's like saying "hot is not cold" or "wet is not dry." It's really...obvious.

Also, the only other thing that was irritating about reading this was the many, many sentence fragments. Try to combine them with the whole sentences, or make them into sentences themselves. Too many sentence fragments makes a piece jarring and sometimes difficult to understand.

Otherwise, it was really good. Great imagery and diction. Just work on it a little more and I think it will be an excellent poem.

~Blue

I will be honest, that I was a little confused about what this poem was about. Is the person hallucinating/ dreaming or are they dead? I wasn't too sure :p
I think you should make the main idea of the poem a little clearer.
Anyways, I still enjoyed this poem. There was some really great imagery. I was able to see everything that was happening and that you were describing. Especially the beginning when you were going through the house with the white gas. Beautiful.

This line was my favourite part:

you wouldn't lie to a deaf man, while
knowing that he already can't hear the truth.

Very true!

I also thought your poem had a nice, smooth flow to it. I couldn't find any problems with it.

Overall, I think you are a very talented writer
Your metaphors and images were amazing! My only suggestion is to make the main idea more concrete and obvious.

Heya! First off, I really like the end of this poem and what it builds up to, but I do wish it had gotten there faster. Your beginning was a little rambly and didn't reflect the title very well while also being fragmented and somewhat passive. This passive tone works so beautifully for you later but in the beginning, it's more of a hinderance and I'm not quite sure what to suggest. Maybe an idea will come to me while I read it through again and write you some specific comments:

The moon decomposes into a white gas [I'd love to see a simile tagged on here for that extra bit of visual. You could have something along the lines of: 'like a cigarette shirnking into smoke'.]
that feeds through the kitchen sink, and through the windows.
Giving the darkness a trim of light. [I'm not sure why you made this a seperate sentence? It makes the line seem fragmented when actually it doesn't have to be. The flow would better reflect the movement of the moonlight if it was flowing smoothly.]

Creating unexplored boundries beyond the [You are creating or the moon is creating? I don't know but it would be better to start with, 'It is creating' or 'It creates'. I do like the slow pace that you've built but it would be better were it a steadily moving slow pace rather than one that keeps stopping and starting.]
glowing edge of the kitchen. Where a table
sleeps, fully clothed with plates and patterns of [I think you could have found a stronger word than patterns.]
still steaming food.

When touched, they fade and become white gas. [What fade? The boundaries? The food? It's a little vague and I think you need to get to the meat sooner. So far there has been nothing of reality or of fiction. Yes, the idea of the light being gas is cool (it would be even cooler if you could get a gas mask image in there somewhere or just tie in a few similar ideas) but there's not much to hold a reader's attention yet.]
Rolling into the living room as it spreads out,
wrapping itself around the phone to lead unspoken
words back to the kitchen; where they may be eaten. [Eating words. Hmm. It's okay but there's still something lacking in the excitement department. If you're going to have a slow and steady poem, it has to either produce some amazingly breath taking imagery or present new and fascinating ideas.]

Silence is an apathetic love of honesty, [Maybe a semi colon here and remove the like from the next line? I think that would improve the flow and 'like' just sticks out too much. The sound of the word doesn't fit with the rest of the tone.]
like you wouldn't come to dinner late
you wouldn't lie to a deaf man, while
knowing that he already can't hear the truth. [Lovely line. This makes me glad I read the poem.]

The sun rises and sublimes into the
telephone lines, calling the deaf man
to another world.

A nice ending as well. Basically, those last two stanzas are so beautiful that I almost don't understand how they could be linked with any of the others. Thanks for the read and hopefully I've helped somewhat,

Heather xxx