lies in the making

i used to work in.

i had my little studio that was hiding in a dark corner,

to hide all of my dark corners.

i hid and i made myself over and over and over again.

i made and i dripped and i scrubbed and you did not know where i was.

you did not know where i was.

you did not know because i was hiding,

i was hiding in my dark corner

making myself

i see god

dream of life, in a giant bubble

leaving

i know that i'm thinking four steps ahead; and i know that you're thinking three behind me. i know that you loved me once; and i know that, it was too much but then it wasn't enough. you shattered me to a fine powder, undistinguishable. you scattered what was left in the rain with your bare feet; leaving me a mucky washed away, sad excuse for a paste. you stopped when i had only begun; but i burned you. i rose up and turned what was left of your memory into ash, nothing more then what's at the bottom of a fireplace or the foundation of a house fire. you crackled under my feet and smeared the concrete black with your ruddy remnants. leaving nothing more than a gross stain; because that's what you left, a gross stain; but don't worry baby, i'm scrubbin, just wait, soon you'll be gone.

my slightly enraged letter to you tonight

your smile goes down

instead of up

you think that you can fool with your falsified joy

with your falsified closeness

with you fake

whiskey laden

smooth sounding

velvety rough words

no

i've found you out

you think i'm a fool

but i've found you out

i see you playing pretend

in all the worst ways you play

you play with your toys and you get bored with your toys and you go get new toys and you forget it's me that was your toy

more you forget what pretending is supposed to be

pretending isn't to smile upside down and trick people

pretending is finding magic castles and secret hidden stories,

it's for the childlike and for the children

not for the scoundrels and the liars and the scum

it's finding our youth once again

so get the fucking backwards smile off your face and face the things that aren't in your fake world, things that don't bend to your seemingly gross will things that will challenge you and force you to grow

don't stop growing

don't stop learning,

you're better than that

i know it

and that's just coming from me

one that was once just a toy

eventually

i'm afraid to look at something beautiful for too long

i'm afraid that all the beautiful things will eventually make me sad

.

they want to talk like home is some remembrance for the future

snapping songs through eyes like they're real

when their boots know they'll sleep unkindly

as whiskey just drinks

and we don'

t

on occasion

sometimes i'm too much of a sob story for my own good