A/N: I have to say it just in case, but this piece is graphic in places. If that's something to which you're sensitive, you might want to abstain from reading.

A Singular Sin

God has deserted me. God has finally deserted me, rent holes in my chest and left my salvation in the hands of the Devil and his mistress Sin and now his claws penetrate my heart. Now her lusty, rotten, avaricious, decaying fingers with wild abandon violate me and fill me and mark me and claim me and she snatches the soul from between my bones, my precious bones and taints it with her filthiness and devours it whole! Sucking, swallowing, biting, chewing, until I am empty, bleeding, empty and bleeding and empty and bleeding! Strip me, scrub me, burn my skin with acid, take my head, stab out my eyes, and still I feel it, still it remains: her fingers prowling every inch of my body; her cracked and scraggly nails scratching my insides as she invades me; her vampire fangs sinking into my neck and poisoning my veins with her taint; her fetid sepulchral stench swelling in my nostrils; her vile taste, wicked bile, a mouthful razorblades slicing infinite little lacerations into the tender skin of my mouth and when I swallow, all down my throat until I am cut apart from the inside; her inhuman banshee screaming stabbing my ears, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing until I can hear nothing, nothing but the rushing of my own blood in the caverns of my ears! Exorcise me, lynch me, burn me at the stake, and still she remains, fixed like a leech to my exposed neck, sucking me dry!

God, oh God, oh God, oh God, why can I not just die? What horrible foul thing have I done for Him to leave me so? What sort of merciless demon must He be to leave me to this despair, this desecration, this mutilation this butchery this defamation, He the Lord with no heart in His eternity and His immutable law of perpetual cruelty? He, who bequeaths us to the abuse of Suffering and the rape of Sin and the torture of Pain, only to steal us from the pleasures we seek to stifle us for an eternity in his unchanging dominating embrace? Where is the mercy His people so blindly worship, where is the ultimate love His gullible deluded prophets extolled, where is His salutary hand to pull me from this bottomless pit of torment? I burn, burn, burning, burning, I am blackened, I am fouled, cursed, marked, ruined, enjoyed, crushed – if only He were the one in my place! If only He was the one, if only He knew what this is like! What, then, cruel Lord with no pity in His heart and no restitution in His palms and not a care for this world for suffering for the burning! If only He was the one burning and burning and burning with this, this sin, this burning; acetylene in my veins alight and my heart pumping octane, burning with desire-

Gregoire, Gregoire, Gregoire Gregoire, please, come back, come back, please come back please, please please please, I want you to come back, I need you to come I loved you so much that I'm sorry and I loved you then, I swear, and I love you now and I love you still and I want you, I need you , please just please I want you come back, please-

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, so very, very sorry, I never had the chance to tell you how sorry so sorry so so sorry I am please just come back so I can tell you, so I can tell you what it was like you don't know what it was like, what it was like then, what it was like when I was lost, I was so lost, lost and lost and so, so lost, and I wish-

I wish – ah, I wish! I wish, and if only I could show you, tell you, let you feel it too, I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was so powerless against it and really, really, I couldn't help myself – you must understand! You must understand me – I am just this, weak and so desirous and so empty and deserted, and it was so strong and so beautiful and you were pretty, as always you're always so pretty so pretty, so very, very pretty-

-and I just couldn't help myself, it sang to me, it was singing to me, you don't know what it was like, it was the voice of the angel, throbbing and pulsing and beating and reverberating against your ribs and rushing in your neck and loving behind your eyes, and I had to have it. I had to have you, I had to take it, it was singing and calling my name with the shrill scream of a seraphim as his wings are ripped from his trembling back and his skin is flayed until it splits and shatters like a stained glass window and twinkles and tumbles and shimmers to the ground and sanguine floods their vicious halls of retribution, and he is cast, cast from the heavens cast to hell and ripped to shreds and his remains are scattered and carried on the wind and they decorate the land, macabre and so, so pretty, pulsing and cold, so pretty!

You, you with the face of a god and eyes that pierce the deepest reaches of this sick, corrupt, sinful, lecherous heart; they cast you from the heavens for the innocence in your marble eyes, for those eyes could do no harm but in rending one apart from the inside out – so pretty, like the perfect S-curve of your avian spine and the skilfully crafted contours of your bird-wing hands and the sharp angles of your wild face. All, I wanted it all – by me, with me, on me, in me. So very, very pretty! I had to have you, your fragile, young, innocent, wounded soul, your delectable taste, your lovely bones and glistening precious eyes, when your fingers ghosted across my face trying to understand, trying so hard! It wasn't fair of you to dangle the irresistible, powerful, startling, ethereal, impeccable, delicious beauty of your face and your blood and your body and your eyes, then so cruelly take it away. How I wish I could show you just how pretty you were, you with your long bones straining against your pale skin and erratically palpitating heart and warm red blood and eyes that shone like rhinestones caught in the candlelight! You were supposed to bring me such peace and happiness and beauty and innocence, but you have to know what it was like, to look upon the swan-like quality of your perfect dusty white skin and to lust so wholly, so perfectly, so wantonly, wanting wanting powerless desiring seeking succumbing having taking devouring!

It wasn't fair of you! And now. And this! This is how you repay the affection I tried to bless you with all this time! All the dark nights I watched over you as you listened to your mother cry herself to sleep! All the warm nights when I gave you my love! This is how! This, this, this disease, this affliction; Sin impregnates my soul and blood becomes the salve of her wicked offspring, her foul, monstrous children, and they claw their ways forth from my chest, rows upon rows upon rows upon rows of dripping bleeding snarling curdled stained bloodied teeth and punctured viscous oozing gums, torn flesh atrophied muscle black bile poisoned talons paralytic teeth pointed bones, ugly ones, not pretty like yours, gnashing clashing biting tearing clawing ripping devouring! How, and why? How, how, how and why! Why would you do this to me? How can you? How can you do this to me! How can you be so cruel, so thoughtless, so vicious, so diseased with deceit and the decaying remains of dead gods and ophir strains? Why would you do this to me, I who have always loved you so very much? Damn you, damn you forever, may He damn you forever, in death and in life and in hell and death in your grave in your sleep in those eyes, damn those terrible eyes, damn your eternity, where you will fester for eternity for loving me so cruelly, so viciously, for seducing me with your innocence, for piercing holes in my heart and stealing my purity! Rot, burn, boil, scream, putrefy, suffer, and then you'll know what it feels like, what this feels like!

No. No. No, no, no! This will not be! This cannot be! It will not do! I shall not allow it! This will not be! The lashes on my back and scars on my skin are God's tracks, they are his tracks where he dragged himself across me and the contusions are where he stopped to rest his tired feet. Father didn't so tenderly carve his lessons into my skin only for me to die unknown and nameless in the middle of a forest in the middle of nowhere in the middle of this God damned Godforsaken purgatory, not for another boy. He cared, he cared, he cared he cared he cared for me so very much – of course he did, he was Father, of course he loved me, he said it himself – so, so very much when he would love me, when he would show me his love, his special kind of love, when his hands landed flat upon my bare skin and when he painted the empty canvas with splashes of colour, blue and yellow and black and green and red, like painter decorating the canvas with his grim, ghastly, bloody pallet, pure and loving and desirous and devouring and oh so loving-

And now? I am a visionary. I am blinded, blinded by this vision I see, of golden milk streams and crawling sanguine vines in your vena cava and deserts of fire erupting beneath your ribs and the thin paper layers falling away like the fringes of a spider web and the pylons of salt crumbling into the seas and everything plunging towards you – crystal, everything turns to crystal, grinds away to dust, blows away on the wind and is scattered across the empyrean. I see where eyes have forever been closed. I behold what God has since denied us. It is freedom I see, liberation I feel prickling at the tips of my fingers where the chunks of your flesh stick under my fingernails and your blood forms a hard glove around my twitching, lusting, tearing fingers. It is exhilaration in my veins, the thrill of flying, transcending the pathetic limitations of this diseased form and the God who cast you from His Heaven. I have been enlightened, I have been opened, I have been delivered from my servitude! My mind's eye twirls – thoughts twirl, jumble, tangle, mix, even as I tore free the pretty blue veins that so fascinated me when they throbbed against your gaunt white skin and strung them about our perfect union and danced in my freedom until the blood poured from my feet and mingled with yours, staining both of us. This, the perfect union! Free, in every way we could never be before!

Blinded, and yet I see. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes. The last of the forest is gone, the trees are gone now, dead now, dead like your skin, gone like your heart, dead and gone and cold and cast down, torn, scattered on the winds. Their bowed ligaments bend and their rigid bones crack and they are crucifixes. Arm to arm, they stretch into infinity, stark white sullied and glorified by stark red, all of it yours. You are so pretty as you hang there, martyred by for because of love, martyred murdered split rent torn open empty. You make such a pretty martyr, even with your old, faded lace skin peeled back like the wrapping paper on a splendid present and your blood falling like raindrops from your evacuated caverns over my head and down my skin, as I explore what I've so longed to have for myself: every plain, every valley, every rise and fall, every cavity, every depression, every crevice, every orifice, every section, my fingers devouring like scholars hungry for knowledge. Worshipping, loving, adoring, taking all the colours, the smells, the sights, the textures, filling your empty cavities with my love, pure and loving and desirous and devouring and oh so loving!

You make such a pretty martyr!

And then. Finally. There, I see them. United, twinned, sparkling, still, wide, perfect in every way! They watch me. They have always watched me, devoted, adulating, awed, amazed, studying, like a devotee to a patron saint. They love me! Adore me! Envy me! Envy my liberation, infatuated with my freedom, hail me as their visionary, worship me as their god! I am their God. I am my God. I am the god among men! I am, and the rhinestones still rest and wait and worship in your eyes. Staring, watching, piercing. Cold, dead, dull, falling, bleeding, in my hand and rolling, those dazzling jewels, those perfect eyes, staring, watching, cold and dead and worshipping, and I know it now! I feel it now! I am no longer jealous of you, or Father, for I know how it feels! This lust, this passion, this desire, this fire slowly burning every last tiny fibre of my being! I know what it feels like. I know how good it feels. I know how liberating and exhilarating and pleasurable it is. To strike a match and feel the heart that pumps octane and veins that flood with acetylene burn to a crisp within me until I am overcome by this insane, this endless heat. Watching the twinkling stars of fear and confusion and regret and love and fear and regret and pain and fear in flickering eyes. Listlessly ghosting fingers over the lattice of your eyelashes and the bones I've longed to take and tear and taste all this time as they quiver and shake and grind to dust against each other. Then, then the taking, the tearing, the tasting! Reading the hearts that pump their failing beats in my hands and tasting the skin that tears so easily like paper between my fingers and fashioning the muscle that parts under my oh so clever, oh so careful, oh so loving ministrations! Fixing you, freeing you from the limitations of your fragile body, like a god – perfecting you! I know it now; I feel it now; I see it now: to love someone in this way, so purely and completely! How beautiful a thing it is!

I've fixed everything now. I've made it all better, see. I did it, just as you would want me to if you were still at my side. And now, I can finally have you. I will have you! I will have and mould and take and cherish and worship every part of you, every inch, every drop, every bone – I will build you a mausoleum, a museum, a temple, a shrine to your beauty. I will take you into me, every organ, I will have you, and you, you will be my martyr and I, I who have loved you for eternity, I shall be the God who embraces you in eternity!

You, you are so pretty! So very, very pretty!

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