catechism

 
spinning through the onyx haze
I face my maker hundred proof dread
in the atmosphere, he descends

I see on the horizon a thousand virgins
blood marks there heads
confounded I close my eyes
a jolt to my mind awakens me
I must look

I am commanded to take record
a circumference of insanity
a line drawn in the sand
I dare not cross

conjuring the winds I seek to take to the air
meeting me in the skies he is there as well
an infinite voice booms through the eternities
I will not veil my head

I see you, Sir
take my masochism as an offering
sinner and saint, I am your woman

confined to the mortal
I descend though I rise