“Bless me father, for I have sinned”

they taught me these words

uttered as my nails slide along the left

and right of our savior’s emaciated

body etched into wood 

but the blood seems no less real

piled up under my fingernails


“My last confession was…”

I don’t remember, I don’t know

when the last time my heart ever

bent to the idea of popping a vessel

to an old man behind the screen

when all the demons I have 

wear masks with my face and mock me

with my childlike voice, with my

vicious tongue 


How do you explain this

to a face behind a blackened screen?


The kind-faced teacher in an all-girls’

institute urges me on,

“God will help you.”

So I choke out years upon years of

debauchery, lies, attempted murder

and with each syllable with each

l e t t e r i feel her hands clamp around

my neck, wringing me and threatening

to flush all of hell down my

dirty little mouth, whore, that’s what you like

keep going, worthless blasphemer

you’re a liar through and through

and she mocks me with the patterns

I would draw on the virgin’s shoulders

angel-kissing him to the brink

of temptation where the mind and

morality separate into roads of

heaven and hell

and I am so gone down the icy road

that he’d have to run to catch up with me

because these demons that wear

my face inside out have my by the hands

I spit at them but they laugh

because I still taste of sin

It’s in my teeth, father, they’re in

my mind 


The demons tie strings around my 

fingers, father, sometimes I can’t tell

the difference between loneliness and

being awake because whenever 

someone gets too close they

whisper things into my ears, father

they punish me for my transgressions

I will never be allowed to be happy

as long as they pick pieces off me

and let the hell-hounds memorize me

so they know, when the time has come

that their sinner, long awaited

has finally slit her wrists deep enough

to fill the mouths of those she hurt

with enough satisfaction

to have them sail through life


“Go in peace,”

he’ll mutter, the years of his body

weighing down on him as i get off my

tired knees feeling the Nothing i have

come to know as normal.

Nothing tucks me into bed at night

and Nothing greets me in the morning

So I turn on my heel and press on

knowing that

today will be the day I die.