truth will sucker punch you in places you never knew could be hit.

a venomous green toothed grin,
poisoning you from the taste of its mere visage.

it,
this ego of reality reeling back, as it knows itself,
filled with the sour vile poison of home it steals.

all while caressing the lonesome form constructed by no one but merely yourself.

i stand as its champion in the belly of this rancid bubbling ichored cave.

knowing myself to lie.

knowing myself alone.

but filled to the brim with hope.

spitting fire that eats past the armor of skin or scale.