What the hell is truth
and what place does it have in this sordid story?
Truth may lie beyond my capabilities.
All I can offer is a series of soundbites.
~
You need some help in the shed?
Sure, I’ll help you.
~
It’s so confined in here.
Everything’s shut out – even the light.
Wait a minute.
What – what are you doing?
Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
This earnest fumbling – so quiet, so guilty, so stealthy.
I don’t know what you’re doing, but I know it can’t be right.
~
It’s me, isn’t it?
It’s my fault somehow.
I’m guilty. I’ve sinned.
I don’t even know what I’ve done,
but it made me feel so strange.
I’ve done something very wrong –
I just don’t know what.
God, I’m sorry.
Are you angry with me, God?
Have I offended you?
Please forgive me.
~
no, no
not again
please, not again
i hate this – i hate it
but i can’t move
i’m frightened to
what would my parents think?
they mustn’t know
no-one must know
ever
~
don’t you dare come near me
don’t you dare touch me
how can i ever delight in someone else’s touch
without your fingers creeping over my skin?
how can i ever thrill to another’s kiss
without remembering yours?
what an exchange
you took my priceless treasure –
the pleasure of discovery, contentment and love –
and left me with an open sewer
~
What is the truth here?
Nothing edifying.
I thought truth was supposed to be a noble thing,
uplifting us, releasing us from darkness.
I was wrong.
So what have we learned?
They’re out there,
the vultures,
making slow, lazy circles in the sky.
Hide your lambs.
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