forgive me father for I have sinned.

cut off my tongue; throw it in a fire.
maybe then the words I manipulate for
personal gain will rot in my throat.
let me choke on emotions that can only
escape through words, just as I strangled
others with them when they passed my lips.
leave me speechless
                                and afraid.

tear my lungs from my body;
bury them in thick and muddy soil.
the air you now breathe is toxic
with the poison I have exhaled.
my breath has leeched into many
brains, tearing people apart.
underground, my lungs will grow
flowers, grass, trees:
life worthwhile and admired—
           waste recycled.

take my limbs; run them
through a grinder. grind them
like I ground with my fists,
my feet, everything, into the ground.
use what I’ve destroyed as paint,
pastels—there’s no shortage of supplies.
blow the residue away and beneath
you’ll find a masterpiece:
                                     art
of broken bones and bloodied flesh.
add me to the collection I have started.

scoop my eyes out
with your long and prying fingers;
cradle my marbles of sight
in the palms of your hands—
                      (do you have hands?)
stare into them and tell me what you see.
take my vision before others witness
the terror, too; throw my eyes into the sea
like pebbles. they're too round to bounce,
but I'm sure you'll make do, anyway.
I can hear them now—plink, plink—
sinking into murky, blind depths.
you may have removed most of my other senses
but to rid me of my hearing—now, that would
                               require death.
who would become the sinner then?

toss the rest of me into a desert,
like a toy that has lost its vitality—
given away a week after its purchase. 
I'm sure you're bored of me,
ready to move on to your next victim.
let me live out the rest of my days
drying up in the scorching sun,
regretting every move
                                 I've ever made. 
this way I’ll die the one held responsible,
while nature does its duty to do away
with degrading beings, living things.

I feel your hand on my cheek:
                            a blessing.
say your prayers and it will all go away.
I clasp my hands together
to free me of my wrongs.
you say I've been cleansed,
           yet I'm still left to die.

thanks be to god.