deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sinning Is For Pussies
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned" playing
second fiddle, to Lace and the Garter. Where is the
soul when your mind is blind and the carrion fasts?
What good are candles when the confessor is weak
and the silence is deafening? With the loose lips of
the squeegee shaking the beads. Feeling the agony
of hypocrites echoing when the Whippoorwills thrall
going through life, cheating at Parchisi. Thinking, her
flesh is a Sub sandwich because she doesn't scream
louder. But! The tithing box is near. " Forgive me,
Father, but isn't sinning, for pussies" having no time
for the urchins.
second fiddle, to Lace and the Garter. Where is the
soul when your mind is blind and the carrion fasts?
What good are candles when the confessor is weak
and the silence is deafening? With the loose lips of
the squeegee shaking the beads. Feeling the agony
of hypocrites echoing when the Whippoorwills thrall
going through life, cheating at Parchisi. Thinking, her
flesh is a Sub sandwich because she doesn't scream
louder. But! The tithing box is near. " Forgive me,
Father, but isn't sinning, for pussies" having no time
for the urchins.
Published 4th Sep 2023
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4th Sep 2023 11:00pm
4th Sep 2023 11:50pm
