A Confession I Guess

A Poem by Taylor Herbert

a work in progress

Pastel skies in the cold morning

raining lies of slow hearts beating barely through the night

defying the trying times beneath the dying stars

pointing to a possibility of universal equity

and the lives of innocent water beasts

haunting the crawling jungle

reeking of faithless women dripping blood, in a sheeps mask

and moral seeking men of God

holding on to the Bible as a tether to the clouds

as they teeter between denial

and the brimstones, boiling

crackling at their nerve endings

in despair

pins and needles marauding my very sinning toes

black and bruised from the tireless nights sneaking around on hot coals

to cloak the scent of my own betrayal with the smoke of the Devil's Marlboros

a candle snuffer hovering just overhead shading me from the judging eyes of middle aged friends of my mother loitering around the tennis courts in argyle sweater vests and a trust fund for their grandchildren filled with antique pearls and ancestral shame.

The dimming soul that flickers through my guilty eyes

clawing through the bapstism

instilled upon the holy bullshit

thyne spitfire intervention

of mercy and assuaged fear

Reading "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" face down on a Gin soaked Ouija board

kneeling on the coffee table next to last month's copy of People

letting you know just how unnoticed I really am

and how God probably can't even bother to acknowledge my existence

let alone my every move

so go ahead and

take that shot