A Butterfly's Corpse

abort jesus

tell me
three things that aren't the three sacred scary words, speak the truth for once!
if i call you priest, will you make me feel good about my sins?
GOD, WILL I FINALLY FIND CONTENTMENT ?
WILL I GET BLESSED BY JESUS'S SUNBEAMS AND FINALLY BE HEARD? 
id like to kiss his wine-stained lips and watch his decaying empyrean body gush out rivers of his victim's blood,
because we all know, he doesn't speak the truth either.
we all know he's not the king he claimed himself to be as all he does is sit on his throne made of rotting bodies,
his bosom on that little girl's head, a whores thigh and an achillean's  arm. when he'll close his eyes the creeps, the weirdos, the rejected, the ugly and the madman will unravel themselves from the dead,
ghost fists in the air.
hey priest, make me feel good about myself!
DO IT! DO IT!
CUM ON ME IF YOUD LIKE, OUR SAVIOUR IS THE EXCUSE!
rape me,
erase my pain,
i dare you.