I am so sorry, mother, but today
I surely will not find the time for evening prayer,
The time to croon about graceful Christ...
I'll come into my room, delirious, despised, 
Leave windows opened wide and get undressed,
Lay down in bed and let my thoughts, being in a mess,
Complete the cryptic picture of the lust,
Which turns my childhish love to Jesus into dust
And buries in the ocean of the bliss...
This darkest night brings sweet pervertion and disease,
The strangest feeling that my mind is split...
So I shall kiss the ground under Devil's feet,
Confess to him that I'm obsessed to sell
Next splinter of my soul to burn in mental Hell. 
The utter doom reveals my lover's face,
And I can almost feel his silk touch of disgrace,
Disgrace I choose instead of innocense...
My blood turns into fire from cold of his white hands,
He leaves a taste of poison on my lips
And itching deep red scratches on my breast and hips.
He hurts me, squeezing body in the chain...
But nothing could be so desired like this pain,
And nothing in this decomposing world
Could be as dirty as the virgin's nighttime thoughts.
Oh God, you make the people think You're wise:
Please, answer: can I still have place in Paradise?...
Mommy, I hate you!...