Afterthought

I wanted to wear my rosary beads the first time I slept with you but I didn't have mine with me. Luckily your dusty bible on the bedside table made up for it. What is it about defiance of all that is holy that begets human desire but pre-empts emotions? The sheer brilliance of our plan is made up of shams, something which Maureen warned me about. There is no upside or downside. I feel - I feel - that it was an act of spite, all the dead weight in the air and thinking about the bodies that were slain in the same spot before me. I do not pronounce it as acts of cruelty, merely acts of cowardice. One feels small in the eye of grander catastrophes, my woes are but the scratch of a world that is unfolding from your (un)doing and unbeknownst to even the smallest of your mind. Who cares about your achievements (I assure you I did not) when your purposes did not impress, only unabashed at best

Several questions worth examining include:

Are names important?
Are bodies burnt by the sun, cracked from winds of the Mediterranean still worth exploring?
Is there decorum in our minds?

Your sins are as great if not greater than mine, at least my sighs were negligible acts of repentance / do not lie to me or I will fuck you up, the end of the era is near and for all the grand illusions you plan to conspire I wish you none the best

perhaps your only action is to perjure yourself for a Greater Cause