It’s an emotional investment
that we make:
whether or not to care.
A transaction.

Fuck! Is it really that?

We’ve all been there;
our hearts are worn the hardest.
It’s strength they lack
(not truth).

No, I don’t believe it.

For strength,
in truth,
binds us to lies.
Deception is a sport.

I see it now.


In all you do

with your every day,

are you being built,

or are you being broken?

The question marks are stalagmites.

The conversation dripping.

We’ve lost all form.

You’ve lost your way.

I feel like I am sinning.

To stay with you I would be.

[I’ve got to run away.


[I’m trading in the fame for some logic.]

The punctuation fleeing.