The time to tell it all

From moronic silly conversations

to self pathos

the tumultuous years have gone by

leaving me more vulnerable

and defeated 

than ever before

I thought so as much

and it just happened

all the fictions of the past

are real

nothing is metaphorical 

not because my heart says so 

not because you still admire

my false naivety

I struggle 

with my self-pity

and the realization

that the time of some benign work

does not sound extraordinarily comforting

My insecurities

have given me the courage in some ways

to say this to you

I am a figurehead of anomalies

with a shallow intellect

of a frightened depth

of course, your presence

makes it easier

for me to talk it out

the realm of your lack of judgment

has the stamp of unconditional love