1Act I, Scene 1. I pretend to sleep and eat and dream. I never do and I don't know the difference. I don't tell you where I really am and it feels like land mines in my cheeks when I tell you I was at the bookstore. I'll be at his house and my stomache shrinks when you call and I slyly say, What's the deal? It feels good knowing your reality is made up by me. I'm in charge, creating senarios you believe are happening. I play God by lying. I create your world.
Act I, Scene II. There's paint on our fingers and we think it's just dirt. Wiping hands on each other and pretending to show affection when all we really want is to come clean. This is how we tell the truth, not with words or voices but with actions and being close. I'm your atmosphere and you are mine. We pollute each others ozone and clean it up with each touch. Has truth always felt this good?
Act II, Scene I. Fireflies run laps around us, turning your balcony into an Olympic Stadium. We were tired as ever. You question me and my heart hops ribcage hurtles. My eyes feel dry as if seasoned with spices; I am the lemon being queezed, interrogated. I am the tea bag being compresses until my insides are out; I am now empty of lies. You want to bare your teeth and punch something breakable. I confess and -
Act II, Scene II. - certaunly have no more secrets. I am pure and innocent like the beginning of everything. Like the beginning of us when all we wanted was to be each other's breath, drink, shelter. As adolescent lovers we listened for words that the other paused before speaking, we cyphered how far down the pen the other bit and what we thought about when we did. We desired to know what songs made each other hollow and then listened to them to make each other complete. Devoid of lies and facts we had nothing left but memories of smiles and great gestures of love.
Act II, Scene III. Enter: Eternity. Telling truths and lying to enhance the truth, then lying to cover up lies. Telling truths to fix the damage that is done and contemplating the fantasies that could be done. On a timeline nothing will look resolved and it will end with a single point, freckles on your back or maybe stubble on your cheeks, but it will always be a dot, a circle, full, complete and round, like all time-"lines" that fold back on themselves.