The Truth

He hinted about a distant relative,
As if I was the chief of a lost tribe,
Where we were ten generations apart,
And then he moved his chair closer.
A form of English words came out
Of his overly hydrated mouth and
For the first few minutes I had to
Adapt my ears to such an accent.
Finally, something familiar he uttered:
“In all honesty,”
And for an hour of pure listening,
Dazzled to the amount of information
That actually sunk into my head,
The gist of it was identity loss!
Here, let me break it down for you:
Forty minutes of total nonsense,
And twenty minutes of weird and
Disgusting sounds, and I believe
It was, to him, a form of nonverbal cues,
So, indeed, an hour of oral chaos:
Identity loss in its purest form!
Friday, 03rd of April 2015

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