Lies & Big Questions




knowing the lies are lies just isn’t enough

they are heavy in me:

a hook that I have swallowed.


can I walk up to him, asking,

“are you deeply disappointed in me?”


can I tell her I did not mean to make her mad?

she’d scoff, I know. She’d find it awkward and strange and

then she’d say, “I’m not angry. I wasn’t even thinking about you.”


I would say, “I know.

Damn all these lies, right?”

then she’d look away, which is




Big Questions


Am I alive if

I ask no big questions?

It is in the asking that I find

The Life; who to ask is

irrelevant. To ask permission is

also irrelevant. I ask it only

of myself,

Fount of Big Questions.

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