Alternate title: In Defense of Snapchat.
Context is a Catholic nun
Who's ruler and rules, rapped on daydream's wrists
Dumbfounding blissful thoughts
Of the lowest (and highest) chakra.
It's not my fault
She's forgone her good parts
For the sake of Good.
Which has only done so for sinners
She is Shame and Grief,
She is hand of Self-Loathing,
Strangling the fun out of everything.
Neither tender nor warm, exhilarated or aroused.
I ask you, Sister,
When last did your breath gasp in pleasure?
Your tensions ease into strong arms of impulse?
Your present actually Present,
And once finished, remembered fondly without further thought?
I can't assign penance, dear Context.
I see your eternal suffering,
Under ignorant bliss,
Have already started daydreaming once again.