A Religious Bringing-Up in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“Our parents answer jesting Pilate so.
I am the meanest servant of the Christ:
But, were I heathen, cannibal, profane,
My cruel spirit had not sacrificed
My children to this Moloch.” [via]

Consider also:

  1. “WITH this our ‘Christian’ parents marred our youth: ‘One thing is certain of our origin. We are born Adam’s bastards into sin, Servants to Death and Time’s devouring tooth. God, damning most, had this one thought of ruth To save some dozens–Us: and by the skin Of teeth to save us from the devil’s gin– Repentance! Blood! Prayer! Sackcloth! This is truth.'”
  2. “A curious thing happened on one occasion. At Madura I went into a temple and sacrificed a goat. Soon after I completely cut off my trail by a sea voyage–a great storm was raging, and I was the only person to board the ship. Some time afterwards I returned to India and visited some friends, who knew nothing about my activities in Calcutta. They told me that their servants were excited about a queer tale that I had sacrificed a goat at Madura, the most sacred city of South India.”
  3. “Oh! my pure heart! Adulterous love began So subtly to identify the man With its own perfumed thoughts. So steals the grape Into the furtive brain–a spirit shape Kisses my spirit as no woman can. I love her–yes; and I have no escape. I never spoke, I never looked! But she Saw through the curtains of the soul of me, And loved me also! It is very well. I am well started on the road to Hell.”
  4. “Here, she is willing. Stands the Absolute Reaching its arms toward me. I am mute, I draw toward. Oh, suddenly I see The treason-pledge, the royal prostitute. One moment, and I should have passed beyond Linked unto spirit by the fourfold bond. Not dead to earth, but living as divine, A priest, a king, an oracle, a shrine, A saviour! Yet my misty spirit conned The secret murmur: ‘Gereth, I am thine!'”
  5. “Then surged the maddening tide Of my intention. Onward! Let me run! Thy steed, O Moon! Thy chariot, O Sun! Lend me fierce feet, winged sandals, wings as wide As thine, O East wind! And the goal is won! Was ever such a cruel solitude?”