Inashortfiction's Blog

Penance for the Unsure

Posted in writing, short fiction by Psychopoliticus on December 7, 2015

You can live in a tower if you make elephants out of flies–

if you’re fascinated by a grain of rice.

It’s your prerogative to feel depressed–

You filter the world, so you can’t relax.

In Russia, poetry can be a profession–

in both senses.

You don’t have to be a necromancer

or drink Jack Daniels.

Who would have thought–

“Eight Days a Week” can be sung like a hymn,

You’ll do penance, ask mercy, for your pellucid whim.

You have the upper hand and you’re unsure?

Wish you came packaged with a brochure.

Maybe you’re afraid of aloneness, insecure–

But do you love me like Eisler loves Brasseur?

Before it seemed love asked us to do penance each time,

that our whims were pellucid, covered in primordial slime–

You can skid on the surface with hammers and knives–

but no human can manage to lie with their eyes.

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