Member-only story
you sold me your story like hotcakes
there was no truth in it
only the long-awaited dream reversal
like a dog always patiently waiting for its owner
you’re on the hunt again
for another wife to break
good luck entangling them all
in your cold bed of stone
ridding the caked-on misery
of your delusions of grandeur
when you unzipped your suitcase
it was a sign of coming to terms
with lies laid out on the saddest truth
revealed everywhere
and yet you keep breathing out your stories
as if they were true and, in some way
everyone believes you, you are their hero
praised, ploughed, pin-up man
in rooms full of abused wives and abandoned children
man-child with spelling mistakes
despite being an original
language user
the story can be retold
depending on the words used
to describe the needs upturned
Thank you for reading!
