Lies

 Lies


People fuck you over a lot.

You have to will your will

to the end, ultrafiltered by

God. Memories of a sorcerer.

Crooked ways, crooked days.

Eyes crisscross chipmunk squirt.

Days of never knowing quite

what the word “ethics” signifies.

Let alone “God”. She was a

cosmetologist. Such beautiful

faces. That’s where her heart

was, those magnificent

faces.

She liked to dress

“provocatively”. She also liked

to put her madness on display

memes and tweets and selfies.


And yet her relationships were

pure chaos. He wondered what

they were really like. She made

the mistake of falling for him

and tried to delete those files from

her memory and finally, she succeeded.



They say that self-deception is a

strategy of sorts, almost unconscious,

for those who deceive others. Deceive

yourself, believe your own lies,

and it’s easy, effortless to lie to others.

What snatches her weird alchemy sucked

up in the vortex of her “witchcraft”

(that was her name for this errant 

superficiality).





(poem by James Krendel-Clark, 

all rights reserved )

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