Let it burn

G.

Give me a sin, to wash myself.
Give me another to eat.
One more, I say, to properly dress.
Could you spare him a twin, I don't quite like that color.
I know, relax, this one is to sleep.

Let me feel sorrow, happiness, dread.
I know you have vice–to make me feel all right.
Let me help with your misery, delicious.
I love to see you in red, crybaby, so tender.
Where are my manners, don't care, big bang.

More orgasmic I feel, more empty it feels.
Bursting with joy, makes me feel disqualified.
No more, no sin that is not the nature of those.
I angered myself, to the point of disgust.
Now let me burn, the last one, to forget.