Confessional

There are things I have said out loud that no one’s heard.
Writing is not talking.
When I speak these scripts to you
I am not talking.

There are things I have said out loud that no one’s heard.
There are things I have said out loud that no one’s listened to.
I have whispered them to people in my arms,
in my garden.

I have screamed them to my audience
while I stood on a stage.
I have screamed them to my audience
while I huddled,
fully clothed,
in a freezing shower.

There are things I have said out loud that no one’s heard.
because I spoke them to myself
covered by the rush of the highway in winter.

There are things I have never said out loud.
Writing is not talking.
When I speak this script to you
I am not talking.

There are things I have never said out loud because
no one should get to hold
the spiny mass of me,
not with such uncalloused hands.

There are things I have never said out loud.
There are things I have never –
There are things I –
I –

This is scripted.
This is scripted.

[Here the artist will speak a confession in a conversational tone. “Ums”, “ahs”, pauses, and stutters will be present. The confession will vary at the artist’s discretion. At several points mid confession, performative style will again take hold, and the artist will declare, “This is scripted”. The confession will then continue as before.]

There are things I do not want to say out loud.
But you are looking at my sullied confessions,
my scripts, my lies, my half-truths,
and you are opening your arms wider.