if you pull off the lid, can you put it back on?

It was a night for writing and deleting sentences. For wishing that I smoked, so I'd have something to burn off the nervous energy. Pensive, and wondering about the nature of truth, and of telling truth. Forces conspired to prevent me from expressing the fear. The internet disconnection, the fat cat who needed pats, all suggested there was safety in past tense. Maybe 3rd person would be needed here. City sounds suppressed the frogs and crickets who eked through in precious moments of traffic silence. There was self-loathing, theories to explain emotional distance, and other tricks to throw us off the scent. In the end, there was just a desire for honesty without an understanding of what honesty is for me.

Maybe these secrets will whet your appetite.