Friday, March 25, 2016

make believe and lies are friends.

tell me, we haven't all done what we believe
we can
to find ourselves in our secrets, to become
apocryphal, the myth, the make-believe. grandiose or impressive.
is that why we don't share
our secrets with each other? are they sacred? must we be
so possessive?
i am picturing the earth as flat and drifting away.
it becomes rectangular. a kid's place-mat. it's stuck to the bottom of someone's
boot now. your secrets mean shit.