I’m not going to be thief
I can’t steal from your truth and make it a lie
I won’t take your right to know away
whether you want to know it or not
whether it makes you comfortable or not
Masks are poisonous superficiality,
duality, duplicitous and I only have one me
full time
one person – uncovered – naked and not ashamed to be so
I’m not your excuse
I have no space in my head for schizophrenic industry panic
it’s hard enough holding one person together
let alone the one who writes, and the one who speaks, and the one who loves, and the one who…
being one person is tiring enough and I can’t lie that much or that often or that convincingly
I’m not going to be your Sybil
Your friendships means a lot
your patronage means a lot
but feeling like a broken mirror isn’t lucky
it’s not
the cracks go down deep into places *I* am yet to discover
keep your bricks, and your rocks, and your foolishness to yourself
I won’t be your target
I am an author of fiction
but alive in my truth
there is no red cape and no phone booth
for me to change into – when you need a different me
to come around and save you from your own unwillingness to be the things you don’t like about me.
I’m not your superman
How can you ask that of me?