Confessionals

 

Give me the truth as you see fit, my love.

Break it apart into 12 or 13 manageable pieces

rolling off of the tongue in meaningful slobberings

I know this so well.

Even better than you might, the medicated stumble of a mouth

rife with SAT prep lingo from a bygone era. Paleolithic 

shots of affection across the starboard front of the vessel,

whatever that might imply to our friends in the maritime industry.

Whatever that implies to anyone.

Holy, all that is Holy. Attached to sounds of my spindly flesh’s protests under the currents that guide us into what comes and what may.

I am slurring again, letting the closely inspected colors, neat within the lines, leak out and make a perfectly damn fine picture ripe with blurry hues. 

Everything ends up as shit if I’m not careful these days. With no bags to store it and set it on fire outside the local municipality’s domicile.

Go on, say it like I mean it, self.

Let them know how I really feel, this time.