I find it easier to speak truth
In some shapes than in others. Shall we ask the questions?
Have I mentioned about all the noise?
Climb under an upturned boat inside a cave with me.
Have you seen how hard I've tried to speak?
Learning the words, the arguments, the twisting pain.
Is there an answer that won't hurt more?
Why should truth be beautiful in its sleek agony?
Answers: these feet, these hands, this hard head.
Answers: this belly, these bruises, these lost cradle songs.
More answers: Press hard. Never erase.
Do not pretend. No answers here. Do not remember.
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