the antithesis of a lie


i don’t know myself
and i’d rather you not tell me
i prefer bedding
with my lies festering
beneath their oils
hidden and concealed
down under with the
worms and spotted mushrooms
mold growing through my
secret crevices
lending damp warmth to
moist and fertile air
no need for your citrus harshness and
hurtful truths with a dollop of reality
at least your version of it
i don’t believe your
tales about me
i’m fine
inconceivably
spectacular in fact
is what i am
let me lie here
i have no desire
to hatch
out of my sanctuary
and into the truth

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