Honestly, i am not an honest man.

i feel wilderness in an isolated cubicle.
i see moon igniting fire when you are besides.
i dream of things which are real.
when i said i was stepping out, i was being sucked into it.
now, i am strumming music out of feelings i thought were dead.
i am tasting air which was long trapped in that box of chocolate we shared.
i am pumping greens into hollow barks of the tree we sat under.
i am tearing off letters to make space for new ones.
i am spying; on myself.
white lies. black lies.
a liar, a liar i am.
honestly, i ain't honest.

spaces.
end.