Sin Has Something To Say

Let’s just say I can’t see the obvious. I face my detachments and foreign appendages, but they don’t matter to me. I don’t know why. I will carry the coffin with my many hands, stare at you with my many eyes and cry victory, sniff my noses at how stupid you are and scratch the floor with my many feet, but I won’t notice your song.

Sing all you want and I will laugh at you when I get in the other room.

I do not look into the sky and ponder eternity or the end of things. I have all the time in the world. I will turn keys without a second thought and shine what festers and scream like a monkey at your appeals, turn you away like a beggar at my door after inviting you in. I don’t want to be with you, I want you with me.

I can say this is true
I can know the big idea.
I can help you die and pay taxes.
I have many faces.

Tin pans tell me empty histories, and pure, white and heated coffee makers give no perspective. Microwave ovens give cancer, but within allowable limits set by the government. Dictionaries are full of words that don’t matter to me.

I am ignorant in many ways.
I am cold and heartless.
I am cruel and unusual.
I am in need.

Hungry.

Until my many fingers feel the soft skin of your throats, until then I will be strong and persevere. I will fly, I will soar, on the fluent cruelties of indifference. I have nothing else to live for. There is no reason, no rhyme.

I don’t care.





© LW Publishing 2010