Behind The Curtain

There is a gutteral retching from the next stall
and I know it to be the man I called friend.
He heaves and his back must arch
in a way I can only associate
with extreme discomfort
or more aptly
pain.

He won’t being himself
to disclose the nature of this beast
not even if it kills him.
He is
(sadly)
on the surface
a one-dimensional thing
attempting to create a facade so believable
that even his truth
will become wrapped up
within it’s spidery webs.

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