truth is a masochist

is it truth as i see it,
truth as it is

all caps and boss
that is captured
when i look into the world
and put those images to word?

i don’t know if i would know truth
if it bit me in the ass…

a wise man once said –

what is truth?

as if he wouldn’t know it
if it were bleeding before him
and staring him in the face

so we put it to death daily
and it comes back stubbornly with the dawn,
knowing it is oxygen to our starved hearts
and light to our blind, white eyes;
it comes back
like some masochist that needs our fists
which we happily plow into its face –
no safe word agreed to
if truth be told,
no safe word wanted.

is it truth i see
when i look outside of myself?


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