I murdered someone, and that's the truth.
I liked it immensely, and that's the truth.
I was careful enough for it to have gone unnoticed, and that is also the truth.

I looked Death in the eyes of a young girl.
I looked Death in the blood of her father.
I looked Death in the screaming mouth of her mother.
And these are all truths.
These are so true that they speak to me of more truths.

Hell doesn't exist, and that's the truth.
Pain is like to Pleasure, and that's the truth.
Insanity is a form of sanity, and that is also the truth.

The Riddles are part of the truth.
The sharp knives are part of the truth.
The latex gloves are part of the truth.
And together these create the truth.
The truth is in the faces I see ever clearly and sharp.

Evil is relative, and that's the truth.
I am not evil, and that's the truth.
Truths can be painful, and that is also the truth.

Dig with a shovel and discover the truth.
Dig eight-and-a-half feet to know the truth.
Dig under my apple trees to taste the truth.
Can you dig it; dig deep enough?

Deep enough to see, Deep enough to see, Deep enough to see,
Deep enough to hear, Deep enough to hear, Deep enough to hear,
Deep enough to touch, Deep enough to touch, Deep enough to touch,

The maggots, miasma, and my old knife are waiting for the
stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab stab
stab stab stab stab stab stab stab
stab stab stab stab
stab
of Truth.

-----

I now have a title for this poem. It was given one by my houseguests.