Confessional

Been a lot of good confessional pieces here lately and why not ruin a good thing? 1 2

While Pound held his hands up to Lowell and pronounced Worms, I confessed mine to my pockets. I love in generalities (I only
love at all
for fear of dying) and I sin as convention dictates; there is therefore no use in others' diaries. It is only because they are atheists that lit-rag tabloids hold any interest (I stopped believing
in God before I
started and attend church because I
don't trust my own
judgment). Any proper congregation recites their trespasses in annihilating unison; all guilt is communal. It is this obsession (I have never actually called
someone to ask how
they are doing) with the individual that produces such a deluge (the furniture in my apartment is in
boxes it's
been that way for a month) of journals; I have no (I drove my
car into a desert and left
it there I just don't
have anymore) time for talk of sex or love or fear or pain without capital letters. I am only interested in anxieties so commonplace (like holding
one's dick in one's thighs and
holding his in your
mouth so he might not touch
mine) that no one even bothers to write about them.

I have listened enough to your suffering. (I need
to know my life is going
badly.)