Confession box...

'Dear...
thought
when there is only He the God
why not share with you
my faults?
past history a bit?
like thinking you my confession box?
not a wooden one though...
not a box even
but a cloud...
an infinite shape?
to me
a shape and form
where my goodness only placed so far?
what i actually fear?
to share?
a bit of my darkest past?
like...
say...
well...
marijuana days?
or
my hyper state?
a sense of revolt?
against everything?
burnt now
but not to be hidden?
like my hamartia?
hubris...
as well...
a perfect concoction
to become acidic?
a bit demonic?
even?

a lot of booze...
a lot of downslide once?
like finding animal...
a beast...within once?
finding no good in anything?
like that Grotsby
in Saki's 'The Dusk'?
too much cynical
and so duped...
and too much material
like a chaser of honey?
like copper coins
to be earned
only to be wasted
on a wasted self?

how is that?
a wrong man?
a fallen ?
a man with expressions sullen?
well...
that was i
too
dear!
that was i too!
without shame
sharing that ...
for what i fear?
when you are there?
i can never be only goodness portrayer...

my own decadence

i think i should myself bare...

Judgments are left to the river
And to you...
Dear...
And
To the cloud sure...
For i don't want to be a pretender...
Unmasking me self so to you...
Dear...
It was always a pending thing...
told you...
you need not to pay me with flatter...
told you and even promised...
eulogies i find so hurting...
the same i who had of course
Chosen insecure
The most secure...?

Hope you will be
A bit kind
And 'changeling' idea
you in me
Find...
A bit though...
For
Journeys are yet to be made
To get your Love pure...'
he wrote
Sitting there
before Him
Standing bare...
And bowed he
After the write...
Bowed he
Shameless he...
Not about being bothered
If he was actually going beyond
The set...of austere norms...
But ...
he also got the thought
If confession boxes are really there
In churches...
And when he is takng his scribbles
As no less than from heart...
he can never assume and wear
A pretense...
Though whatever he wrote
he knew
They were mere past tense...
Still...
Past one should not forget...
Past inglorious should never be papered
With falsities...
Or idiotic claims...

'Hope a Catharsis will descend...
Hope a Peace with acceptance will fall
In their proper assigned place...'
he hoped
And prayed
A salvation...