by Richard Mcallister

It has been 6 weeks since my last confession, and these are my sins.

I am rotten inside,
I am Dorian Gray without the beautiful face. My portrait weeps memories and not all of them sparkle. Cancel my meeting, I must look in the mirror, good morning narcissus.

I am the spool, spilling my seed of corrosive cotton. I unravel like time in loops and leaps and bounds.

Stretch me out and set your alarms, I’ll scream ’till dawn scrapes at your window. I am empty, apathy beats its bare hands on my future.

I recount the passion of Christ and all I see in the mirror is Judas.

I’m just a man. Walking in the shadow of the valley of life.