Tangled and mangled they were found. Amidst lies and deceits of their own making. Never realizing how enmeshed they had become in their own deceits. Attached to their lies for eternity. Never being able to see what their perfidy had done to them. A Hell of their own making. Jailed to the bedrock of their lies with no escape possible. It started small, as most lies do, then grew to an enormity that encompassed their entire life and so within this dark shadowed existence they were to remain till the crack of doom awoke. One said aloud for all to hear, "how do I stop this perpetual torture? Is there any way to escape this bondage?" I watched silently as this terrible scene unfolded before my eyes. I did not wish to be seen by these helpless lost souls for I feared that they would petition me to somehow end their misery. I could only remain their witness, I thought, not their liberator. And so my dream, no my nightmare, continued until my reprieve arrived in the morning's light. This nocturnal visitation was so alarming and so vivid that it demanded testimonial and so I grab my brushes and my paints and proceeded to recall what I had witnessed the night before. So here is a little tale of woe brought to life by oil, canvas and these words recalled Sir Walter Scott "Oh, what tangled webs we weave when first we practice to deceive". visionary imagist "Joey"