You Lie

You lie on a bed of it,

your grin fastened to your neck with cheap gauze

and whatever else was on sale;

close, comfortable.

You lie for your little brothers,

for your extremities and

for nothing at all.

You lie because you know I will catch you.

Because you know I already have;

from before your neurons curled

infant fists around the mere whisper of a notion.

You lie,

You confront yourself in the black of a loading laptop

in a third world internet cafe; the heat like a hug.

You lie.

You confess your sins to the screen.

You claim to forgive yourself; in verse like a hug.

You lie about that too.