i_keep_lying_to_be_honest fyn gula my silence is a fragile china serving plate. lies, one by one, rest upon it like fluted glasses of prossecco. i lift it above my head like a waiter bringing my disguises to your table. i remove an offering, but misfortune conveys an adversary unseen. i trip and champagne goes all over you. i am ruined. but all i want to do is lick it off your body. 030614 ... . . 061212 what's it to you? who go blather from