Liar's Dice

Have you never lied

to friend, family,

or an absolute stranger?

Not the lies that bleed

like knives through the chest,

but the truths you borrowed

off lives you’ve spent

to be where you stand, 

for the theatre

of your truth-telling.

Have you never lied

to friend, family,

or an absolute stranger?

Not the lies that split atoms in two,

smudging ashen crimson

on the concrete canvases

of proud cityscapes,

but the truths you buried

in your bones

until your brain caved in, 

for the illusion

of greater good.

Have you never lied

for the love of your faith,

for the sake of your creed,

for the truths you told yourself

needed crafting with care?

Have you never lied

when questions were left at your door;

questions that threaten

to crumble the spines

of your acquired taste?

Have you never lied

when lives were put to trial;

lives that never agreed

to your inheritances,

and yet you found yourself

on the jury?

Have you never lied;

the thin, flimsy ones,

the fat, morbidly obese ones, 

as you looked yourself in the mirror

and muttered in shallow breaths:

"This is my story,

and I’ll tell it

however I deem fit."

The ghosts of yesterday

haunt today’s hangmen.

The past returns

not for memory;

but for flesh.

Grammar knew this

before we did:

the past participle

always comes back

to finish the sentence.

Power, like planets,

orbits in ellipses.

Today’s revolutions

are tomorrow’s kingdoms.

Ellipses do not close.

They continue.

And so do you. 

No matter how much you lie,

none of it will ever be enough.

Because beyond us simpletons, 

lies an entire universe

unbothered

by what we call truth

and what we disguise as lies.

But that won’t stop you,

will it?

Truth is a gamble, 

and you must roll the dice.