Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not She
Discovered this Infirmity.
For once, towards the Close of Day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,
......
Words gather like stormclouds
behind my teeth,
eager to leap,
but stumble in the rush.
My tongue,
a contorionist in a narrow cage,
turns truth into tangled thread,
pulls silence from syllables.
......
I am not going to say I love you
Not because I don't,
but because I won't
In a matter of
months
weeks
days
minutes,
......
Winter
"Love is the chief means of escape from the loneliness which afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives."
— Bertrand Russell
To escape: the void within devours the soul,
In pleasures, in wealth, in love cold and constrained.
For love, fleeting warmth, cannot make one whole,
It stirs frozen blood, but leaves hearts chained.
......
Secrets remain shrouded, unspoken,
yet I see them seep
into the spaces between breaths.
Truth, as it stands,
refuses the grasp of words—
it thrives in the moments
we dare not recount.
The echo of vanity
envelops everything I once chased,
......
Words gather like stormclouds
behind my teeth,
eager to leap,
but stumble in the rush.
My tongue,
a contorionist in a narrow cage,
turns truth into tangled thread,
pulls silence from syllables.
......
Die Wahrheit wohnt in stillen Räumen,
vergraben tief in Herz und Geist.
Sie lebt,auch wenn der Mensch sie preist
mit Worten,die nur Lügen säumen.
Sie ist kein Schwert,sie ist kein Schild,
sie braucht kein Heer,kein lautes Schreien.
Inmitten Trug und dunklem Treiben
ist sie das Licht,das niemals schwillt.
......
Vicious lies,
Faded by time,
Exist like green, scaled reptiles—
Slithering through camouflaged crime.
Etched in smoked veins,
Daggered through pink fold,
Leaving blemishes and stains,
And a soul wagered and sold.
......
Secrets remain shrouded, unspoken,
yet I see them seep
into the spaces between breaths.
Truth, as it stands,
refuses the grasp of words—
it thrives in the moments
we dare not recount.
The echo of vanity
envelops everything I once chased,
......
Secrets are secret
Truth cannot expound
Everything is vanity
No comfort to be found
Truth is relative
or so it is, they say
Life for us is short
no time to dry the hay
......