Curse this cross that nails my mind
Confines me in this tortured cell
Naked, but for one wrapped towel
Around the sex I’m taught is hell.
These polarised, magnetic spikes
This rack that stretches every joint –
Is this a resurrection life
Or what I worship, but a point
Towards a mirage in the sand
Where virgins wait to drain my powers?
Is my vain worship in between
The aching thighs of time’s twin towers?
Oh, I could wish a madman’s plane
Would lunge inside, expunge each tower
Destroying both to end God’s game
And let my soul burn in that fire.