sitting in my room, look at my work of
punishing under will, debris of my life

my hands, wasn’t mine, guided by a mind
behind my good brain, it orders me to
purify my soul
give in my demand
it wasn’t her fault, not her sinny flesh,
not her lustful lips, a voice tells me to
desire for blood,
give in my demand
I have to kill my sins
in dialogue of pain,
it’s true, when I say
that it was
not mine,
my demon
forced me
I had to take the knife
I had to take the saw
I had to be the judge
I couldn’t suspend
the necessity
of acting
to transform fancy to reality
stabs quench my thirst,
inside of my brain,
in dialogue with pain
demonated wishs