He lies. He lies so much that he doesn't know how not to. It's like breathing. Or eating. If he ever tried to stop pretending or drop the mask of being human, he would choke on every word, and he would starve. Like a wolf that goes too long without food. Some of the lies are very beautiful, but don't be fooled. Don't be his rabbit.
A human condor with affection for flies
Heatless constellations winking in his eyes
Thorns and deepest alienation
Hidden by a careful smile.
Hollow man with a patchwork past
Fashioned from the corpses of what
Could never last
Driven by ambition
Nailing rabbits to the floor
Until your hands are sore
Nothingness sucks away my tears
Monstrosities have consoling ears.
You are every chill bump on my skin
Every disquiet scratching to get in
Broken symphonies in every word
And no one else hears
Voices I thought I knew
Adopt sweet tones, sickening sneers.
Grow into a tree
Grow into me
Ashes on your favorite rose
Maggots where affection grows
Soft petals, tickling my lips
Let us lie like this
Until a scream
Ruptures the abyss.
You are a wolf
Severing a spine
You are the spoiled fruit
The wine and dine
You are the plague doctor
But I am not ill.
You are the cypress
No fire could kill.
Enamored with death, empathy not your style
No one sees past the guilt and the guile
Some fall in love with the man in costume
But never see the blood flowers bloom
In the belly of the Big Bad Wolf.
I am not your rabbit.