Hedonism
To God,
I made a mistake, one you knew I’d make long before I existed.
The desperate, frantic, needy hunger that resides deep in my flesh.
How am I to be of God when I am of man?
Is it truly that taboo to question this?
My sweat symbolizes the tears from starving pores, craving skin to skin, my over grown eyebrows a sign of neglect.
I’m in a bad way, Desire seems to be the only thing keeping me strung along.
To please my flesh, is to please me.
I am a subservient to none, except the One that knows it all.
i am not a saint. but Godliness cleanes the dirt and nastiness from my top layer, reverting to flakiness from the dry and empty feeling of being scrubbed clean.
Internally I feel it rush through me, my blood cycling the glowing nectar that has been blessed upon me. Ridding me of every single sin called upon.
Yet, I crave more.
Do you still love me? Even after my parasitic ways?