Bread and Roses

A post for Masturbation Monday. Check out the other posts here

His breath is mint I push my face against the grille so he can see my face smell the vodka and cigarettes Your Mintiness do you know who I am can you smell the perversion that poisoned my soul my immortal soul soul of the sinner they warned you about no absolution if no desire to turn away from God I am talking talking Dutch courage but I am still shaking talking at the crucifix above the grille reproach  each impure thought is a nail in my feet my saving feet amazing grace how sweet the juice I suck from you I am bad I must lie again a  night cruciform and suffer abase myself to bliss bless me minty father absolve me mintily of my sins make the penance severe I will walk to Walsingham on my knees I am Elizabeth father born on 19th November St. Elizabeth is my patron of Hungary and I love her desire her pray to her my lover in plaster enveloped in the brown I crave she is here she is in this church cheap plaster brown bread and roses a rose for me I close my hand on the stem I bless the drops of blood I offer up to her it is the sin of incontinence father grave sin sin of the grave self abuse an offence against chastity pleasure from pain pain of the hard stone floor where I kneel  hand down my skirt it’s my clit father  not a minty clit a clit gorged clit because she makes me horny worship yes  I worship with my body my body which is His hers which I offer your mintiness I will lie for you and for all for the remission of legs apart on the altar non sum digna non sum digna non sum digna gorged get me to a  nunnery wrap me in the rough brown of my lover that only she may find my cunt coarse fabric brushing against my clit I am vowed not to touch agonies of denial for which I long I massage my clit I knead the flour to bake the bread to fill her basket minty breath whistling breath words words but I am beyond words I can see his face the jaw moving up and down denial of the flesh lead us not into temptation I’ve never been closer tried to understand the I am looking up at Him I reach out with a bloody hand and anoint his feet bring myself to climax absolve you of I am coming reaching up wet fingers wet fingers touch the feet of Christ of Christ commingling the Eucharist in both kinds of my fluids in ecstasy I stand I kiss the feet the feet baptised in blood in my juices in me work harder love the Lord His Mintiness is gone I am alone to  masturbate to Christ again move that finger knead knead then my penance before St Elizabeth of Hungary Erszebet  died young widowed younger and I have a penance I will do my penance once have come in the presence……

Rough knickers convent knickers prison knickers knickers  that rub remorselessly knickers that edge me knickers that make me long for my Saint Elizabeth in rough brown Elizabeth Elizabeth……..winter evening deserted church candles that flicker cold church radiators from the Middle Ages that rattle and belch but belch no heat cold I take my clothes off stone embossed knees she sees me in my nakedness I prostrate penitent I crawl forward forward  pray for me pray for me that I may not be lost even as I grind against the flagstones as I get high on you my saint , my Elizabeth my lover my lover for whom I bake bread punish myself with thorns.

I am here. I have come. Sin boldly. Yes I will.

 

3 thoughts on “Bread and Roses

  1. Really intense, but I enjoyed this. I loved the layers and the slight confusion of messages being taken in all at once, like an overload of information. I feel it will stay with me long after I have read it.

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