June 4, 2018

Sometimes one really needs to push one's self into un-chartered territory.

Truth Stalking

If I broke into your home,

Would I find that book I recommended

On your nightstand, next to the tubes,

Kleenex, make-up, cell phone?

Or would it be under a table leg,

Stabilizing the rickety work space

Where you write out your lies

And pile up the bounced checks?

Or would it never be there,

No gap in the bookcase, the hole

Where it would be kept

If you had cared about what I favored?

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If I lingered there in your rooms,

Would I smell the faint scent of your fear

On the sheets scattered, dangling

Off the bed as you thrashed and strew?

Or would it effuse from the clothes,

Spread out across the floor,

Unwashed piles to step across,

As I pull myself up close?

Or would it all be masked by cologne,

A cheap pheromone as welcome

As the migraine it produces

When one enters your home?

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If I logged onto your computer,

Would I see a recent search history

Of not-safe-for-work images,

Deviance one'd never conjecture?

Or would there be a record

Of local security services,

Called to install alarms

That would make you feel secured?

Or would I find the stories

About my past and my present,

Unfair and twisted by people

Who lined up as my enemies?

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If I sat at the edge of your bed,

Waiting for that hitch in your breath

That moment when either you awake

Or that dream finally kicks in,

Would that be my chance to whisper

Not to trust them, those creeps

Set out to discredit and unsettle,

Toss me out with the rest of our history?

Would you not throw me out,

Nor pull out a gun, but settle in and listen?

If I were allowed to say my peace,

Would you just let me leave?

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My quest to prove my truth is simply fraught,

As I am sure my actions would all be for naught.

I can never know what it is you have thought,

Can only imagine the lies you've bought.

In the end my attempts would simply have me caught

And judged by the desperate measures I sought.