Forgive me, father, for I know not what I do.

I don't understand the axis on which
I am spinning,

my mind is so pre-occupied
with almost nothing,

it's almost better just to stop
and let my senses decide.

But my eyes play tricks, my ears deceive;
putting different echoes on words
I thought were clean.

Familiar smells turn bitter in my mouth
and I feel numb.

Such a contradiction summarises
the effects of what I did.