An- written over two days in a time of about two hours total. Also only ever worked on from past midnight to just before 3:30 am. It's probably a good thing I'm a night owl, 'cause my muse refuses to work till the sun goes down.

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Model of a h.y.p.o.c.r.i.t.e.

Model of a h.y.p.o.c.r.i.t.e, (lost in bad translation) :

Drown in your naïveté,
breathe in deep and taste your molding lies;
your voice, so shrill, encased in its glass coating,
(protecting it from your own falsehood-drama-desperation)
sweetly peppered with yellow-flaked disdain
because you could do it better.
(well then, you’d better try)

It’s true for you, you’ve got the proof,
but evidence was never meant to last
what you say is law, that’s been decided—
too bad you hate repeating yourself.
Every day, you come up with something new
(and if it contradicts, well,
just erase your line in the sand,
and claim you n.e.v.e.r stepped over)
to wow the masses, keep them saturated
in your candy-color lies and half-forgotten promises
(woven from spider-silk and tasteless rainbow flavoring).
Whatever you decree, however, is apparently too slippery for you yourself to catch.

You used to call it independence—

Now you call it being forgetful.
(‘I never really said that, did I?’)