Feed my soul with words that have meaning
Even if they’re not pretty
I don’t want shallow attempts
to paint the truth with limited false belief
I want substance
Even when the truth is covered in blemishes that gush black informality
Even when the truth exhales acidic breath
Even when the truth looks like untamed locks
Even when the truth looks like the translucent veil between pain and sanity
Even when the truth has bonded with chemical receptivity  
Even when the truth is vulnerable and shaking
Even when the truth feels like drinking fire

I want to roll around in reality and determine for myself what is “good” and what is “bad”