lies

  I'd like to start my story with a little white lie, for the truth to me makes no sense to begin with. And if I tell you that I lie and u happen to believe me, then you are probably foolish, or are you with insight? So much insight that you can see into my shattered soul and right through my dishonest words? For words seldom do tell truths. And lies are seldom said between souls. But supposed that you are indeed with vision… can you still shun my deceit? When my soul is ever so dishonest it deceives itself so willingly and feeds its perverted whims on the lost fragments of my unsuspecting mind and the stranded pieces of my helpless body?
Can you see right through me? I wish you could. Oh if only you did…. Understanding would be the key to my soul ,and what you'd offer me in comprehending what I, myself, cannot even process about my own being you offer me more than life… you offer me salvation, you offer me freedom; for my body needs to be freed from my soul as strongly as my soul craves freedom from my body and my mind, my mind that longs for nothing but an ever lasting rest.
…And of all the above, my body, my soul and my mind I own nothing. I am nothing. I fit none of the traits attributed to my being. I only exist in a world of unknowns.  And yet I don’t exist. For I am a lie and nothing more, and a lie doesn’t exist as long as everyone believes in truths, truths that don’t exist because they make no sense , sense that doesn't exist in the minds of us ,sons of adam and eve or sally or jude or anyone or anything that has placed us on this planet so randomly on purpose and left us so ruthlessly, to cross the brink of insanity trying to figure out purpose or meaning for who and what we are. We were left to kill time, Endless, bountiful yet rare and precious time.
So we amuse ourselves with lies. Lies about our meaning, lies about greatness, we lie to ourselves and to each other we lie for power we lie for joy we invent lies and discover lies and live lies and create lies and when we die we become lies, returning to our most primitive form of existence.
  And yet lies always come to nothingness when the senseless truth is discovered. Maybe that is what we long for when we die: The truth to end all lies. The moment of clarity that is in leaving this world, if only for a second or for the rest of eternity. But what is to stop us from dying just after we are born? End the lie before it starts?  Or are there more lies where we come from than here where we have fled, more lies that drive us to inhabit this wretched world in search of more purity? But what purity is there left in our world that we have not tainted?

I am the most devious of all creatures, when my soul shamelessly lies to my mind and my mind plays ruthless ticks on my body; when the purest entity within me is tarnished and the whitest page of my conscience is disfigured with eternal blemishing. When my body speaks no truth and my spirit spares no fabrication; when my loving smile secretly sneers at the believers and my caring eyes water at the sight of integrity. It is beyond me not to lie to you, when you obstinately refuse to see the truth.
To you, my lies don’t seem to exist when truth prevails, but truth does not exit when it makes no sense, and when I tell lies, truth gives way to my deception and sense is abandoned so it exists no more.