Sorry for posting this a little late, it went through a few rewrites and a bunch of edits to get this to where it is now. It's a little more presentable than it was earlier in the day.
I'll be working on a poem submission for a contest for now, my Monday story may be a bit late as I stay up tweaking my contest entry.
*picture is originally from http://weandthecolor.com/surreal-photography-by-martin-stranka/26494
01/19/2014 (Sunday)- Tell Us What We Are
The golden idol ticks the seconds off his face, steals the minutes from our lives, tells the hours of our death—and we worship him.
we ask for him from society,
we demand him from our loved ones,
we spend more of him on temporary happiness, fleeting satisfaction, short-lived smiles.
I find myself more often clocking-in to his temple,
my confessionals held late at night witnessed by my choice of pastoral beers.
I tried leaving this pious congregation,
that I’ve eaten and drank myself to existential indifference.
I fall to my knees and pray
wanting to buyback my soul.