I literally nearly drown in these lies and and as such I never truly suffocate, but I probably should. It’s as if I get some type of sick joy out of plastering fabled words into conversations like some type of mad man with the verbal calligraphy. I’ve lied to him, to her, the dreams and the situations…its all too much at times, but ill keep it going. It’s really who I am right now and they’ll never know, I make sure of it. I weave a contrived web of unnerving words that assimilate only to my beck and call and as such you will believe what I want you too. Though Lazarus as the words may be they cannot deny me and they never will if you let me tell it.