Good Friday

Jesus, I want my sins back. My prattle, pride, and private prices — climbing, clinching, clocking — I might loan you a few for the evening, so you don’t show up at your own crucifixion naked of all purpose. But for God’s sake, don’t spill any redemption on them! They’re my signature looks. Body by Envy. Make up & wardrobe provided by Avarice. Lord, if you take away my inordinate cravings, what the hell’s left? Do you know how much I paid for my best rages? I want them all back if they’re so To Die For. Else shred my palms, wash my face with spit, let the whip unlace my flesh and free the naked blood, let me be tumbled to immortality with the stew of flood debris that is my life.