Empty Bottles

A message found me floating in a bottle.
It pulled me out, and spread me flat,
Tattooed meaning across my flesh,
Then stuffed me back inside to rot.

Exhibitionist, I spread my filthy coat wide,
Arms stretching parchment flesh so others may see.
See and hear and wonder, but never understand.
I don't understand it myself,
Truth too large and strange to comprehend.

You can't stuff Truth in a bottle.
Fold it up, sign the byline in blood,
And all you've got is another pervert,
Looking for love and covered with scars.

That's another kind of Truth, really.
Smaller and more mundane,
The kind no one wants to notice.
So scribble me down on a napkin,
Stuff it in an empty bottle and throw it away.

-- Tonin, April 11, 2014