Confessional
Posted: August 2nd, 2015, 2:14 pm
Not sure if I posted this here before. It's a spoken word piece. I wrote it in November of last year.
.......
And so here I am at the confessional,
my rosary between my fingers, counting
intentional and unintentional dead-ringer beads
of who went wrong when and why, and when
I die, I hope I die amongst them all so I can avoid
and yet succeed by telling them off because if I did,
they'd scoff anyway, say whatever it is they wanted to say,
trip the day over a rock buried underneath the soil pretending,
extending, the spoiled recognition of it all and I am
only as tall as I can be when I stand up to infirmity,
I'm only as huge as I have been when I slay the dragons,
bow to the diadem of worship, my indistinct poetic lines
written in cursive on envelopes and the margins of bills
but baby let me tell you still, I've got news for you,
I'll sing the blues for you 'cause this abyss is my confessional.
It is intentional. It is as true as true can be but nobody has
ever known you just as nobody has ever known me.
.
.......
And so here I am at the confessional,
my rosary between my fingers, counting
intentional and unintentional dead-ringer beads
of who went wrong when and why, and when
I die, I hope I die amongst them all so I can avoid
and yet succeed by telling them off because if I did,
they'd scoff anyway, say whatever it is they wanted to say,
trip the day over a rock buried underneath the soil pretending,
extending, the spoiled recognition of it all and I am
only as tall as I can be when I stand up to infirmity,
I'm only as huge as I have been when I slay the dragons,
bow to the diadem of worship, my indistinct poetic lines
written in cursive on envelopes and the margins of bills
but baby let me tell you still, I've got news for you,
I'll sing the blues for you 'cause this abyss is my confessional.
It is intentional. It is as true as true can be but nobody has
ever known you just as nobody has ever known me.
.
