Sincere Toenails

You can lie about many things. But truth isn't a fact. It's a preception. You can count the beers. The minutes that dissipate between them. But reelase isn't a goal. It's an obstacle.

You can count the countries in the world. One finger at a time. The seas. The oceans. But when you stop thinking. There's only yourself. Only what you thought you knew. Or had hoped you would.

Lost little demons still grieving the halos you once sported. All those years looking forward to then. When it finally came time to abandon all hope it seemd the very last thing I was willing to do.

It finally left in a small, inconsequntial belch. But even years later. The taste of it remains. Still lingers. Effortlessly. A dying ballon. Wheezing out its last laugh. At the back of my throat.

Determined to die as loud as its life was quiet.

Drowning in its most sincere of metaphors. As happiness imagined what she'd look like should its knocking ever pry her our of her chair.