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07/14/09 - (1)
Drained
Whenever you spoke to yourself (Which, generally speaking, was infrequent), It was always on the condition of anonymity, Since nobody had ever authorized you (Certainly no moral imperatives imposed by your conscience) To discuss yourself with yourself. And in truth, what could you have possibly disclosed That you didn't already know, anyway? The whole notion seemed, on the surface, nugatory.
And yet, when shove came to push, you caved, Spilled the whole case of Mexican jumping beans, Proved to be the perfect stool pigeon, Ratted on yourself, with logorrheic impunity, As if you really did have the inside track On something you couldn't conceivably intuit about yourself. At the end of the bloodletting, both of you were drained. The pain of being exposed as untrustworthy brothers Caused you never to speak to each other again.
07/14/09 - (1)
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