No Excuses in Poetry

I don't apologize for who or what I am I admit that I am afraid to admit these things that make you wonder or mystify you about myself I admit without reservation that I enjoy when the sun takes a vacation and allows the clouds to spread far and wide I take more joy in the tinted blue/gray of buildings and trees than golden sunshine obstructing my vision I find more pleasure in the sexual union with myriad partners than one I can lose myself in their perception of me and their image of idolatry becomes my own image I confess, I marvel in it and I become myself closer to god within each an every scent that escapes their bodies that cling to mine like lovers do through an obscure view of windows fogged with fiery breath on a cold night There is no reason to lie or twist the reason as to why I prefer empty churches and that I feel most sacred in its vastness which is subject to the masses and their destructive nature I solemnly swear that I have no excuses and I love the truth of me.