To the Priestess of love's Agony and Torture, accept my gratitude: Thy curses are more merciful than Thy blessings!
I worship the nauseating mist floating above the fog. In my grave, you gave me moist erotic dreams and in my ascension, you were my escort throughout the night in the hour of death's delirium! And you did not forsake me. I worship Thee and rejoice with the blind dog sleeping at Thy feet!
To the Priestess of love's Suffering and Persecution, accept my thankfulness: Thy curses are more generous than Thy blessings!
I worship the toilet seat and the black robe you made me wear to hide myself from your eyes. I covered myself with immodesty and false humility so you could crucify my guiltiness. You were my companion throughout the night in the hour of death's delirium! You did not desert me. I worship Thee and rejoice with the blind dog, vomiting at Thy feet!
To the Priestess of love's Pain and Anguish, accept my award: Thy curses are more forgiving than Thy blessings!
I worship the towel and blanket, the bed and window; the floor and ceiling spin around me! When I finally crawled out of my distress, like a diseased worm that burrowed itself in my sickly soul, you protected me throughout the night in the hour of death's delirium! And you did not abandon me. I worship Thee and rejoice in the blind dog's sickness sacrificed at Thy feet!
To the Priestess of love's Tenderness and Torment, accept my admiration: Thy curses are more lenient than Thy blessings!
I worship your pizza, cheese, coffee and beer. Your ice water, dripping from the tap of the ghetto, burned my throat and scalded my mouth and tongue with blisters and sores; it didn't matter. Still, even with my handicap and disabilities, I waited for you to come to me and carry me into the Clear White Light of death's delirium. From dust to dust and bone to bone you sat up with me until forgiveness passed over my bed like the plague. And you never left me desolate and barren; you did not sterilize me. I worship Thee and rejoice in the blind dog's fever burning at Thy feet!
To the Priestess of love's Grief and Sorrow, accept my esteem: Thy curses are more compassionate than Thy blessings!
I worship the unholy ground of Thy graveyard and crypt. O, may your phone, your door and your lock and keys rapture me from these intolerable restraints! O, tear me away and rip me apart from the chains of my body and soul, those manacles of my Mind that tie my wrists to a beam and bind me to the nauseating mist floating above the fog. You did not get rid of me or throw me to the pack of wild dogs scratching at my bedroom door: death's everlasting delirium. Nor did you punish me for being infertile, artificial and lazy, nor did you repeal the pardon you gave me for swearing an oath to worship Thee and rejoice always with the blind dog dying at Thy feet!
