act of contrition (fixed)

Oh my god.
I'm heartily sorry
for having bought into thee,
and I detest all time spent
shut up in thy hushed government
but most of all,
I thank beauty itself  
who freed my thought
from its gag, hood, and church-granted chains -
unlocked.
 
I firmly resolve
with the health in my face
to pretend no more
and to take joy in the world
as it is.  
Amen.
 
A dead book
says I deserve  
dirty looks on the street
for finally understanding myself
and walking around in those honest clothes -
 
I am damned
for what this heart - this mouth is -
a fountain -
my wellspring of love
unbound,  
a waterfall,  
a wasteful fire-hydrant -  
nonetheless a steamy
southern summer scene -
heavy clouds  
that give their everything -
then - bless this -
mist the next morning,
for eyes just awake,
only the freshest.
my love  
is sunshine
and rain,
my sex  
has slain the stone in hearts;
crushed it into dust
and with a lustful pinky  
brushed it away.
Saved many a chest
from cold,
extra weight.  
 
In the kisses,  
sun, clouds, light,
tongue, now and then - bites -
joy unabashed,
proud,
wide as the daytime -
and your god  
insists I ought
to fit it through a straw.
 
I thank him
for teaching me  
to roll with the dirty looks
like roller-skates.  
To smile  
and smile
and meet that instant judgment
with my warming,
tight, sun-tanned,
seductive,
off-leash
automatic love.
 
There is afternoon sky
right in my big beautiful eyes.  
Drizzle,
soft shade in my smile.
I could not hold it back  
if I wanted to,
 
if I tried.