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All the secrets I tell them about you.
All the things I reveal about you.
All of them are words.
I construct a story about you and I amuse them.
They believe me because I'm such a good storyteller.
The gift of a good liar - of a fraud - is that the seeds can be planted like a master gardener.
They believe me. They are amused and we pass the joint and life goes on.
Launching the hate machines at the sun.
You know I do this about you because I do it about others when you have laughed.
I view it as lancing boils.
You view it as stabbing backs with a viscous knife.
You think that my truth is my truth to tell but your truth is sacred for you and I only.
You are scared of me because you know it all means everything to me and you know oh to well how I self destruct and come sniveling to you for succor.
You know that you mean everything to me.
Could these last spate of posts be called the YOU posts?
I am angry at you indeed. I think you are a fool, but I would wouldn't I? You pity me and think I could be so much more only if.
I think I am something.
I think I am nothing.
We are both correct.
Maya teaches us that we are both correct.
We get an A both of us.
Hooray.
My love.
My lovely love upon whom nothing means but whether you love me or not and would harbor me in my darkest darkest depths of jesuical despair...
You know I love you.
You know I regret not being able to be one of you. You know I wish I could just turn the button on and be the person that you think I could be - if only.
Don't worry.
Don't worry about anything. I am nothing, and I know this very often.
You don't have to hold my hand that often, and I know when you do, it is only when no one can see and you think we are secret special friends for a time.
I want you to know something very secret.
I want you to realize something super shiny secret.
I am a scorpio, and whereas I violate my 'sign' often with my revelations and transparency.
I know that I am a fool. I know that I look like an idiot. I know that I look at myself in the puddle more than an aeon.
You must know one thing.
This one thing is uber important for you to know; however, it means nothing to me.
All my words. All my drunkenness. All the times I get high on mary jane juana. all the times I'm crazy because of the genes god has put in my body and I rely upon for your - if only - pity now.
All of this is moot in a way.
Because you my love.
You could never be put into words. It sounds so silly to say it, but I could never tell on you. Your secret is safe. I would tell it a million ways to get the audience to love me and laugh.
How could I tell of it though? How could I describe you in words? You are a human that I have loved.
I have grappled you to my conniving shallow deep hallucinatory heart.
I couldn't dissimulate you.
It just isn't possible.
You realize that. You have spoken to me in your bed. You have seen me with eyes that have never seen anyone. We have shared this. It wasn't your imagination.
I have been a witch for you. I have gotten there, and you may feel safe.
Not because I am honourable. I would sell you in a second for my soul.
You can only be safe because I know you but I can't say you.
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