nobody taught me how to lie.
-sat down with me, and told me
in steps, showed me to walk up a staircase,
and hide in a glass walkway.

but people gave me their hands to hold,
a crying child,
and beat me when i took those hands.
my parents brought me home and told me to bat those hands away.

i learned how to lie, when people measured me
as if i was no more than a number on a wooden ruler,
lower than their own.
today, i know i’m not.

i learned to lie, when it all became too hard to bear,
all those late nights and broken pencils
tears shed everyday, yet you doubted me.
it was real.

my best lie was taught to me by a beautiful woman
-loving her was a secret, as was loving her and her and her,
because the very people who brought me home,
pulled me away from those rulers,
told me i was wonderful,
never doubted those tears as they were wiped away
would be the ones
who could rip my heart.

when life taught me that the truth
laying yourself out
-when it really matters,
rips you apart
you learn to lie.

when life gives you a secret worse than all else,
you see the consequences words can have
-you see that you are a sinner
you learn to lie,
and you wonder if you are a lie yourself.

I leave a trail of shattered hearts.. so frail..
Clumsy I am...

You swore you felt the Earth quake
But I knew otherwise
The force was from the tectonic plates
Shifting within me, my marrow molding
over itself, pressuring the collision of us,
the snake pit that lived in the shadows
of my bones, under my skin, slithered
like a river running rapid, unstoppable.
I watched the drink you cradled like treasure
rise, attaching to your lips by osmosis,
you sipped and I watched the heartbeat
of your gulps, first slow then recklessly quick,
the waterfall from which you took your drink
rushed down, disappearing into the mystery
within you. I wanted more than anything
to be that drink, to wet your lips, to be
the beat that you were so thirsty for.
Somewhere else in the bar, a glass slipped
off its tray, shattered, and people screamed
and they laughed too, soaked whiskey jeans
trudged off to the bathroom looking for paper towels.
You didn’t flinch at the sound of the shatter,
you were off, staring into the void of it all,
and I stared off at the geometry of your jawline,
sharp as rain fall, your eyes glistened with the gloss
of happy, your lips parted to say something
but you turned to me and instead just gazed.
I felt love like the color red, burn in my stomach like a coal.

Your voice wafted through my soul like a breeze through an open window,
With every word, I melted a bit more,
It was then that I realized I was falling,
But I didn't want to fall, for if you don't catch me I will shatter,
And I'm not quite sure if you can handle the weight of my heart,
And I'm not quite sure if after I break, would you glue me back together or sweep me away into a dust pan to be thrown out?

Calibrated versions of
my reflections, I shatter with
                          fists of  petulance.
                  


And
       still they never seem to shatter.

No where do I see a shard cutting upon




                                                 my wrists...


But bluntly do the words overwhelm
                every vocalization that is pummelled
                                  with every suppressed
                                                                ­        motif..

That never stood a chance of being more than just
                                                  a paper Mache
                                                                ­        eclipse.

Never truly covering anything just  falling apart
                before the form that
                                          was solid like imagination.

         Instead falling apart like yesterdays fake news.

                                         Never reading deeper
          
                                                     ­ than the surface,
only being more like a comedy page
                                                           that no one finds funny.