he was editing his prayers again.

how could he talk about his granny porn habits when
his therapist was a duomillequinquegenarian?

he wanted to say that it was his undying thirst for wisdom
but in his heart he knew that this logic was flawed.
it would be as if he could absorb the gift of flight
by pumping a virtual hawk on the internet.

fear was what continually pulled him back to these sites.

he imagined a Klansman grunting with ecstasy over
the interracial action on his screen as somewhere
time-zones away, a woman whispers...

"...who's your granny?"

to someone almost his entire age
younger than he.