Poison

You can't ask a question like that. I'll tell you one thing straight up. There are some things a sane man will not admit. Silence is the cursed witness' sanity.

You see, I never seen life fade from an honest man's eyes when he tells the truth, quite the opposite...it's the aftershocks that sting, the skeptic's steel glare. The glint fades with time, years. It's a slow death, like a starving man with a belly full of leaves and grass. You can feed him with trust, but he's learned to accept cactus and tumbleweed. He sees the poison and might choose to submit to the earth instead, obscure and delirious. Or, he eats the poison, come what may. If true, delicious, but the weight of silence grows heavier. Why curse a trusting soul with such a fate? It is enough that they are invited. Between them less than a nod will suffice, if that.

It ain't a life for everyone, and that's a good path for some folks. You ever seen a good bullshitter lose his mind? Nope. He tells you what you can believe. He might even believe it. Hell, it might even be true. You ever heard a mother singing a lullaby about a deadly psychotic episode while rocking her baby? I recon it saved a life or two. Might have saved my life, knowing my mother. That's a regular dose of sanity for the chronically insane. Truth to some, absurd to others, irrelevant to most.

I see those eyes of yours. You see, son, a truth stranger than fiction is useless unless you're a good bullshitter. I ain't one, so you best be moving along now.