I have three sisters.
One is truth,
One is fiction
and one does not exist.



I have three sisters.
One is truth.

I love the truth.

The truth wants to be free.
But the truth knows what's now,
not what will be.

She's paranoid
of the shadows at night
cuz she's seen
what they do
to her dreams.

She's feels too real
and feels too much
to move too much
when she moves too much
she screams.

I love the truth,
but the truth
can be hard to see.

I have three sisters.
One is truth.



I have three sisters.
One is fiction.

I love fiction.

Fiction flies fancy
and her cave is all she needs.
Fiction sees what could
and would
and ought to be.

She's remains undeterred
by the juju of words
and the way the truth
cuts through her prose.

We think much the same
When I call her by name
It's never one anyone knows.

We sidebar and rave
at the drop of a grave
and often talk only in codes.

Fiction is only honest
when she lies.

I have three sisters.
One is fiction.



I have three sisters.
One does not exist.

I do not love her.

I erased her
and replaced her
with a waster
I scraped
from the bottom of a hot dumpster stew.

She's better
and clever
and dances forever
and I love her so much more than you.

Your nonexistence
Your plagueful insistence
on dying while living
has left me cold hearted, it's true.

But I'd rather be chilly
in the pit of my belly
than ever be stuck knowing you.

I have three sisters.
One does not exist.