Another Word for Sin

They close their eyes
and pray and try
to take advantage of their faith.
Not mine.
I hear the angels
singing and their beauty
captivates me;
you ask me what
pure angels look like
when they've been defiled.
You laugh
and your laugh is low
and guttural; fading
dreams are falling now.
Not mine.
Not mine.
Unholy Church of our deceit;
a lonely grave. Unmarked,
and no one remembers
who's lying there,
who sleeps beneath the willow tree
and rots in cyanide sleep.
The air is leaving
and we're breathless now.
The sun
is dripping blood that stains
the soft leaves and
the skin of children
hanging up to dry.
Not mine.
Not mine, not mine.

The glass is breaking
now. These shards that
show reflections of misdeeds.
All mine.
The ivy crept
into your bones one night
and splintered them
to shards. But you
don't want to fit them
back together.
No one is crying now
so it's all right
to choke
and gorge on heavenly sin.
All mine.
All mine.
Your boredom and
my sleeplessness have
driven us to murder sleep.
The cardinal sins
and lawless carnal
pleasures stripped us of
ourselves and now
we are little more than nothing.
But we laugh
and bury ourselves
in the damp earth. We dream,
and this is the best dream
I've ever had.
All mine.
All mine, all mine