God is just a

bittersweet Lord who deals in deliverance, spider-forms, the future time, meaningful we tread the threads of this web Martian champions make the Andes quake, carry out Paleolithic promised times, no more Babylon mistakes after all, God is just a postscript almost life-like almost dead almost awake


We travel the same paths As our ancestors did, Tricking ourselves into Believing we’re doing Something better, Standing on the shoulders Of their acccomplishments And patting ourselves on The back, boy, we’ve come So far by our bootstraps, But we don’t see the rest of The bodies burried below. We circumnavigate the Surface, saying we’veContinue reading “🔄”

she made

She made thinly veiled trials for truths, vials of serum went down fireballrude, smothered her vocal cords and got the veins loose, opened and spilling rouge paint thinner smooth, red as the flames in which she, these four walls, and woods were consumed.

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.


"If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space." - anonymous




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