Confessionarium

I have stained this Temple.

I have stained my God.

I have stained the only quasi-physical representation of my mind with the sin of the articulate

and even that I have achieved poorly.

I have pushed emotion away only to let it take hold of me for the millionth time

and for the millionth and one I shall do it again

I have no mind

I have no purpose

I hold no truth

I have betrayed the Word and so It has left me

empty of thought, of beauty, of meaning

They classify this as human but it is not

It is schizoid, pathological and terrifying

I thirst for so much and yet

the Absolute eludes me, eclipsed by the I without which

my being cannot even express itself.

Father, you’ve left me and now

Into whose hands am I to commend my spirit?

If there even is such a thing anymore.

…

Hello?