The Taste Of Lies To Yourself

The taste of lies to yourself
The acrid dry heat
of the stove
Insinuates the air on your tongue
And rifles into nostrils
Begging for better scent
The aroma of stars
The stench of supernovas
Dying light
The taste of lies to yourself
On page
In ears of shadows
And zealots alike
With refrains from wired charlatans
And captured choruses stolen
Misshapen words upon digital parchment
The taste of lies to yourself
The withheld
The way you lie

Reviews

[The Iron Horseman]

The most harmful kind! Nicely expressed.