1. truth-telling:
I am battling with Ma’s moral compass, hung like an albatross around my neck. It's like she gave me a shot of veritaserum instead of breastmilk. She told me speak the truth, baby
and you have nothing to fear. But the truth is a sharp knife, and if you run with it you will cut through your skin and slash through the jungles, decapitating people you know and love. If you can't see the cars you have no business driving.
2. trust-trees:
Shadowy metaphysical nightmares, because you can burn them and slash them and cut them in a million ways, and all this with your eyes closed and ears blocked, with the barest wriggle of epiglottis. But they grow slow, and have shallow roots.
3. tortured troubled trite
my yoga teacher, in his quavering voice tells me close your eyes and relaaaax observe the changes going through your body. know you can control your body, and your mind. I twitch, resisting the inward gaze. I feel like faulty apparatus, lazy and stupid, insincere undignified and trite
you can know people when you know their worst nightmares: on a moonlit night I tried walking across the sky, but not with you watching
