He's naked, not by choice,
But he's given up his clothes to be transparent,
He doesn't crave outer appearance but he's naked.
Stark too, like a freshly cut lawn; he's a breathe of air and a drink of dew in the morning.
Maybe even something irrelevant.
The truth has no obligations no divinations, no religious temptations. It's kinda like a revelation. To be liberated from truth. But then it's a curse...
A beautiful omen of death; death of rationality, death of responsibility
A sensational feeling of death ... immorality
You've been nothing but truth to me, as truthful as I wanted U to be
My flaws so bold U made clear. My heart of maybe's maybe was never there but Mr. Truth I hope you never dear......
Don't cross me on the street, not a peep U must say. Don't see me and smile the knowing smile, i might very well faint away.... into you're nonexistent arms. To touch your disappearing face. Truth has passed but is still a bulging vein, like the truth needs to be dealt with again.
When will the captive truth be set free?
YOU ARE READING
little thoughts
PoetrySweet whisperings. If only the world was round and the things we believed in right. If only the dark didn't melt away as madness becomes light, as sense becomes the past and knowledge becomes history. If only this life wasn't a huge fucked up myst...
