The Truth

The truth is a river flowing downstream

towards an ocean of overturned skulls

lapping through eye sockets like

an ice cream cone at the behest

of executive authority

It writhes like a snake around your wrist

confident that

you will answer to it’s

hissed pontifications

you will…

not?

you will

not

will you

rip out its tongue

and stare in terror at your grotesque animality

in the image of blood and viscera that you know

must be inside you too

its a worm

but a worm doesn’t have a tongue