Sonnet Sequence: Honest

You all keep telling me how honest I
am, and I guess it's cute when I unlock
my mouth and truth comes bluntly out. You mock
me, for I am not honest; I would try,
if I were honest, not to cheat or lie,
to say, "Don't bother racing with the clock,
'cause I'm indifferent" and (to his shock?)
"I'd rather read than kiss you, dear; goodbye"

because to be that close to him would be
a lie, and I--so honest!--would be sick
if I were forced to try it. You must see
that I am done. The lovely smile I pick
to wear today--ironic--walks with me
along the aisles of pantomime and brick,

and we are glad to be alone. My place
inside the world--the world itself--conspires
to make me ill. Though part of me desires
to fool you, for I want, in any case,
for you to like me (and I know that's base),
there's part of me revolted by the wires
I pull. I cannot understand how choirs
of people praise me. On my brazen face

was not there written something? In my eyes
could nothing be divined? I have no gift
for lying, as you know, but somehow lies
come through me. Is it acting? If I sift
a wish ("I love you") out and (too unwise?)
repeat it over, might my feelings shift?