Confession

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Its been four years since my
last confession, although in truth I have never truly confessed and am
steeped in the wrong of myself and others. What I said under the hum of
electric lights nineteen years ago was not sin but was the projected
fantasy of the sins I coveted. The true iniquities were darker, deeper,
in the dank twilight world of a bedroom, where youth is corrupted and
licks primitive slumber.

I am imprisoned in my memories and my memories are imprisoned in me,
and this is your world in which I've grown, in which I've grown to hate
you. My God is crying when he sees how you blew out all the candles,
how you gave protection and respect to evil. I will always be sad now,
I will always be silent. I will always be breathless and laid down -
beaten with thorns.

I wish that Dr S would walk the steps down into the cellar of my shame
and take me back into the sunlight, for I cannot leave of my own
accord, I cannot call for help.

Anyway, that no longer matters, because it is all nearly over - I
cannot live in this world anymore. Do not grieve for me, rejoice in my
release. This is my last confession. How lovely are these cliffs and
that saline smell, the course rub of salt in freshly milled air. Such a
sad day because I have to jump, to leave it all behind forever .