Truth in Documents

the attitude is poisonous

that tilt of your head,
the hand on the table.

lift me from this pile
and stand me erect
burn the papers you cherish most

the ringlets of your hair
the cool purse of lips

shift the order
back to truth
if that suits you

or truth is not an order
in reality or even fiction
but just what suits you best

the skin tone
the eye colour
the curves and textures of implied surfaces
the thought of touch

the smell of sulphur.

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