Deep in my sanctum, deep in the night,
I perform my unction. A kind of rite of right.
I light the candle.
I bow my head.
With both hands I lift my anointed breasts,
tender relics crowned with Pink Pearl eraser-colored halos,
and chant my acts of contrition, confliction, and contradiction.
Hey, Want, be gone. Get lost. Make yourself scarce.
Quit pushing. Quit rubbing up against me.
Longing, your presence is no longer required or desired here
Unending Anticipation, go pick on someone your own size.
I'm tired and I want some Unwant.
[And, oh yes, from now on I promise
I will not talk about myself so much.]
Deep in my sanctum, deep in the night
I am absolved by my heretical homily of intense intents.
I douse the candle.
I climb into bed.
With both hands I pull my covers up high.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, appears
a doppelganger of desire offering a psalm of nevermore.