The guile demands
some apology...

A shirtless detachment,
will speak...

A relative lie,
becomes the truth...

That roasting night
when honeyed moon hung high...

Beyond dreams,
a wise lake, watching my absurdity...

A haunted moon,
sauntered into the woods...

A thought starts a fire
loosening the lips...

Again,
a hunt will start...

Like a jellyfish,
In raw pain...

This was my book of pain
with no ending...

Tell me about the bluetoothed man,
of his stark naked truth, in toe...

During the litany of questions,
I will talk to you...