credit.

i'll give it to who it's owe
in a sorts of bundles of
bags. in midst of all the
purposes... it might as
well be rags. take it all
from its sorts that shall
pay the owe it's due. if
grant me peace and doom
be true. i'll work it off
instead. if debts be owed
amongst the poor.. we will
pay in time or presence.
but i beg you not to worry
with me... the attitude
serves us well. wish me
luck and watch me lose the
battle that must be won
the absurd numbers you
choose to lock me in this
bubble. i beg you not to
pardon my gossip that
echo amongst the pavement
but forgive me not for
it is sin we press along
the table. a glass of water
a glass wine is spread
across the floor. forget
me nots and paper shreds
that count the story not
fable. the sights i see,
the thoughts i ponder are
shades of black and red.
if not at all the fire burns
inside of all of us...

my promise to you
is that all is grand and god
most truly forgives. but
most of all is the lessons
you learn to teach you
what is certain.