My body can’t sake this dirt off,
And those tears,
They haven’t the power to wash sin away.
The wound has been cracked wide open once again,
But I cannot find the string
To sew it back together again.
With each mind-raping quake
Each ineffectual tear
The insatiable desire opens its mount wider
To swallow me whole
Into its depths
Away from humanity
To the bottom of the abyss.
Groping inside darkness
My hands reach to find memories so preciously guarded—
Back to the blank canvas, back to the innocence,
Back to a place where lust had no sway.
But these shakes cannot move stone-set time backwards.
And these tears will never dissolve my growing sin.
Where is this sacred water?
Am I ever to find it?
Or am I beyond salvation,
Doomed to futile attempts,
To shake away and wash with tears?
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