Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Secretive Writer

Blank. That’s right.

Not because I have nothing to say this time.

But because I have too much.

What kind of writer has secrets I ask myself?


Expose yourself

they say

Tell of that time

you

Peed in your pants

Gave 20 desperate calls

Loved and lost

Kissed a woman

Hated your parents

Casually forgot a lover

Wished your dog was dead

Crushed a heart and grinned

Undressed before the mirror

Tell it all

In words

And painful, twisted strokes

In sighs

And anguished murmurs

Laugh as you reveal

Your demented passions

And shallow heart.

You secretive writer

You counterfeit soul

Lie. 

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Its true. Isnt it.

The best probably are best are morphing other people's stories. Blending in.