Premeditation
contemplation
from inside soundproof walls
is safe.
nobody can enter here.
no video camera hidden
inside the soft folds of cranial tissue
no two-way mirrors
or leaky key holes in the skull.
a thousand sins
but no law enforcement.
the police cannot enter here
with screaming sirens and
bullet-proof vests.
nobody knows what is behind
the façade of perfect calm,
what thoughts are concealed behind
innocent mascaraed eyelashes.
only God can see what is behind
the bone gates,
and He won’t tell.
Sin
to do something wrong
feels deliciously right
and satisfactorily refreshing.
snatching contemplation
out of the hands of conscience
intent on throttling it
before the devil turns it to reality.
committing is perfect.
doing is excellent
and the aftermath is better.
now for the first time:
attention.
people watching, scorning, shunning.
but why does it matter?
they’re looking.
Confession
Father, I have sinned
and now I am sorry.
I have done wrong
and will bear the consequences
with humbleness.
but Father, I enjoyed every moment
and that makes it all the more wrong.
and Father, I have no regrets.
I thought about it,
and I did it,
and I loved it.
it felt right to do wrong, Father.
I am sorry that I have sinned,
but not that I did.
