I don’t want to confess
My sins today.
They say,
Thoughts hold power.
Thoughts can be sinful.
You see the cake and devour more than just your piece behind the secrecy of your own eyelids.
A defective doll
Prancing around,
Town to town,
Burning beautiful
Places down.
In search of more sweetness,
That flashes to ash in the blink of a spark.
Sing hosanna, praise be and
I’ll scream,
That I’d eat the apple,
the Peaches,
The whole damn garden if you’d let me.
I’d slide my fingers into the pomegranate and smash it
Upon my quivering lips,
Crying out to the sky,
How lovely is this nectar I taste in this one life.
I’d smash blueberries in my palms and use them to finger paint my next muse.
I’d swim in the juice of the strawberry running down the sides of my blood soaked lips.
Does god feel better as i holler out his name as the fruit sends shivers down my spine and out my legs?
Looking at sweet things,
The yearning for a bite creeps through my head and down my sinful chest.
A lifetime of fruitless crime,
To whom do I confess?