6. Untitled

To the liar, truth is disguise, an invisible mask to their spirit windows
Like cheap sunglasses, he cares for them, feeds them, intermittently
Keeping them eager for flight
But with action falsehood dies, drowning in self-depreciation
Who then surrenders to fan club?
Who worships?
He who believes and follows is as liar and will sink
Pulled down by circumstance
Enjoy their affections, their attentions
Like an inflated penis ghost
Soft skulled and numb to the dull everlasting
Quench your desires then in the deepest, darkest
And endure the Bitchpig and her hatred
For reasons sake
Your sake.