Static.
“Are you weary like water in a facet left dripping/ with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping?…”
“I died for beauty but was scarce adjusted to the tomb/ when one who died for truth was lain in an adjoining room…”
Anybody listening to the same crackling station in their heads, I wonder?
Static.
Angels, my demons.
Forgive me, Father for I have sinned. It’s been manly years since my last confession.
I have sinned many times.
I have been a wild women in a world of men. I have run with wolves and kept demons for company. I cultivated desire in my gardens, raised it up and tended it beside my poppies and my foxglove. I have sown the seeds of Temptation with wild abandon, generously and freely. And they flourished, blooming irresistibly into Lust. I have planted Pride and Vanity together and they compliment each other well. I have unveiled my garden for all to see, but none other to own, and I have edged it with Jealousy.
My sins are numerous and I am unrepentant.
My motives are impure.
Forgive me Father, for I am a sinner born and bred and would have you, too.
