Confession

I look at the name I have given myself for admission to this site. Bald Writer. it

With this in mind I rise up from my secure, comfortable seat and proceed to the holey room, where I will consult with my truth seer. Gazing into its recently cleansed flat glass surface, the truth of the first part of that nomenclature is confirmed. Definitely (and for a very long time) bald.

I return to my seat, look at my new identity, and open word. The blank page opens.

Liar

Is the one word I see on the blank paper. My second truth seer confronts me. I call myself writer, but the page is blank. I see only the work that I know is not really there. When was the last time I filled it with words, thoughts, truths or even lies.

There was no time. Lies

There were no ideas More lies

I have no talent Excuses.

So I enter this church of confession. I ask you, my confessors for forgiveness of my past sins, determined not to repeat them. Looking forward to the writing to follow.