Screw You!

“Screw you!” I shout through bloody cracked lips. He stares at me, slouched on the cold granite floor, and smiles. The ash from his cigarette drops onto his cheap suit. Slowly, he bends down and spins the bottle again. I watch its slow revolution, desperately praying for it to point to someone else. The silent prayer is wasted. In the dim light I can see the relief on their faces. Once again it was my turn to be cleansed of all sin.

half-light and silence
fills the confessional box –
my turn to repent

MikeJackson©2014

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