How would you feel if you knew the real me?
The devilish, lying, whorish me. . . .
Maybe I was afraid to let you through,
So to my fortress I destroyed the key.
But the hiding,
It left me so empty.
I needed a home,
Somewhere to live freely.
It was far off,
No one could reach it, not she nor he.
And I imagined up some people
That were just as screwed up as me.
My fumes were vented
And I lived on-or acted-happily.
What was left
Was a dirty trail of blood- and misery.
But I could not leave it forsaken,
Abandon anything but my dirty, secret laundry.
I sunk ever deeper
Into my Deluded Reverie.
