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A recorded reading of “Ravaging the Sacred”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
My immaculate conception— a heavenly duty, a single touch, one sacrificial thrust. I, the king of sinners, crowned in your sweat. What madness drove me to worship you thus— desecrating altars with lips on your skin, pulling pleasure from your gasps like a thief in the night, begging forgiveness. You prostituted your soul to a god of hunger while I, blind to your fall, drank you as a saint sips wine— knowing damnation is sweet when savored slowly. Once, you were wretched, a broken chalice, a forgotten hymn— but now, the gift you bring weighs heavy as sin: a judgment of iron crushing my chest. And when I think of you— nothing else comes close, not fire, nor plague, nor darkness deep— only the grotesque shadow of your love’s twisted shape, etching itself into the corners of my mind. What was divine in you has turned monstrous in me. You are a prayer unanswered, a hymn gone wrong— the hideous echoes, the remnants of us, carved forever into this dirt-stained soul.
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