Telling the Truth

friendship-1081843_960_720

The topography
Of what is straight, uneroded
Between two proximal points,
Uncurved, shaping a beginning
Carved into a heart-to-heart magnetism.
When one mouth, like a buzzing mossie
Makes a sound in one’s ear
That rocks to and fro,
Even quaking in spasmodic forces.
Aeolian truth, that begins
As a voice, that is untarnished
Unadulterated, and metamorphoses
To a thundering echo inside invisible walls
Of an empty room, housing
A creature so unanimalistic,
Yet always prowling,
Exiting through pads of fingers
And lipful succulence,
As pure as moving glacial snow,
To the heat of that little chamber,
That has no air-conditioner,
Only a fireplace that combusts
To truth logs.

Categories: Tags: , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s