Delirium: or How drugged oracles speak in menage a trois

My compliments are delicious
but I can rarely tell if they come
from my own recipe
or if I had them catered.
I tell small lies
too fantastic to be questioned
and too mundane to be remembered. 
I lose myself
in an orchard of little lies. 
I ask myself what I want
and I get tired of not knowing
so I make things up. 
And that's what I'll want
for a little while. 
Until I get it. 

That's what I'll get. 
I give to be loved. 
I don't know any other
way.  I take pride in knowing
I would give more than you ever would. 
That makes me better than you. 
That makes me superior. 
I give to be able to look down on you. 
If I couldn't give, I couldn't be loved. 
Or I couldn't love.  I mix the two up sometimes. 
I hate the world.  I want to give myself to the world
so that I can love it.  Or it could love me.  I can't tell
which is more important.  If I knew then what I know now,
I'd be less inclined to know what I know now. 
What is life? 
Life is a spiral staircase going up. 
Life is a spiral escalator going down. 
 

Reviews

[alesuriko]

I love this, the lies really got to me... "too fantastic to be questioned / and too mundane to be remembered"... absolutely brilliant. It's true and realistic because several people in this world live off a life of lies that they've established. The imagery in the poem is wonderful and the rhythm and flow eases you through the poem and once you get to the end, about the spiral staircase and the spiral escalator, that's what it feels like... the poem when you read it. I don't much care for the color though and in the first stanza "my self" is actually one word, but other than those two things, well done! Truly beautiful!

[Emily B]

this is absolutely delicious.I like the way it spins. The way it circles out ever so slowly. And then ends in those two parallel last lines. I like the title, too.