dear diary
when I write in you
in cursing cursive, indelible blue
I don't expect you keep my secrets
one day, strangers who professed to love me
will open your paisley cover

you will surprise
those interlopers, won't you,
with fierce fires, thick thunderbolts drawn
by a demented hand, in a razor red
never never land    

my confessions
will jump from the page,
eager creatures, long locked
in your pale parchment, their patience
forever tested, ready to tell
terrible tales

dear diary,
where were the benevolent schemes
and childlike dreams you expected?
in others deluded epistles to themselves,
necessary fiction, for it is much more important
to fool oneself than the indifferent world