I empty myself onto the page. I bleed and spit and wretch. I masticate the sinuous scraps I cannot swallow, spread them on saltines, and serve them as hors d’oeuvres. I offer them to strangers, on gaily appointed silver platters saying, “Take of this and eat.” Because I know those words are baited, and he to whom they are ascribed, uses them to fish for men. In much the same way I fish for absolution.

Written for BrewNSpew cafe weekly prompt: Empty