Epiphanies and Truths

I equip you with 
Falsehoods
To satisfy the wound. 

Then brace my back

And argument for the

Overdue
Rupture 

Of my 

Fake mind.

Your limbs are bound by

My whim strings.

Your accordion argument

Expands and contracts.

In the private space 

Of my bathroom

I scream obscenities at you. 

You are the displaced gravel

Of my fault

Fracture. 

My brain is cracked;

Split open like a 

Poached egg.

The tile wall

Reciprocates. 

The sound of my voice

Ricochets.

And this is the well 

Of my deep knowing:

That even if my teeth

Chiseled, bit, and chipped away at
Anything to 
Articulate

You are still a ceramic

Man, 

In a wet room,

With a portrait of myself

Carved into the chest of you

Reverberating nothing

But the tambour 
Of my raking loop,

As I hurtle hate
About your stagnate
State
And your relentless
Regurgitation 

Of 

Skewed 
Epiphanies 
And
Truths.