The way your lips move when you speak has always fascinated me.
Let’s be real; no one is interested in you.
The way your fingers twitch when you tweet, and your voice wails out.
Let’s be real; no one cares about you.
The way you lie and you lie, and you gaslight and lie and reverse over a swan you ran over earlier. Then you fall asleep. Wake up and swear to your God that you’re innocent, and you hate how witnesses are reporting your crimes.
You cry out like a bitch to the feds about how your traits are on the line here, and you don’t think it’s fair that the news is printing eyewitness testimony.
After all, you know you’re innocent, right?
Let’s be accurate; you think what you think, and even the truth has no space in your life. So your head has you spinning, allegedly.
You make up shit and assume that the editor is spending time pouring gold on. She knows nothing about you, to write about you. However, past and present witnesses have the mic and the timeline of deceit, and most importantly, they can attest under oath that you regularly attack swans.
Crow chants out at 1800; your body bears witness to all your violent crimes.
Your lips move and echo your lies, with tears and pain on the hour. You snarl and snigger at your brilliant ways of manipulation. You play victim so well, yet you hold the knife perfectly, not even bothered about cross-contamination; you raise, and you stab. You stab, and you twist. You twist and assign blame, stating, ‘Your response made me do this.’
Then you hide your weapons, you cry wolf and explain to the authorities that you were attacked! Your character was defamed, and your traits were contaminated.
Crow now perches on my left shoulder, and he plucks a prawn from my portion of King Prawn egg fried rice with the soya-ginger sauce in a small dipping bowl.
We are silent in this space.
One of the surviving swans makes a statement that coincides with witness testimony.
You scream out, ‘I’m innocent’, as the detective finds evidence to prove you’re a liar.
Liar.
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