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Gifts from the Gods


    Gifts from the Gods
Dirty ol' sods
How dare they
How dare They

Don't let yourself be
scared away, by thoughts
of tenderness.
good intent
fools intentions

That's all that's
left is
True intentions.

Lies make no
Difference to
 (                    )
       ("God")

Dirty old bastards.

no date on this one but presumably late 2019

This poem is something I now feel like helped me through something I couldn't even identify. I skate around a lot at night playing jazzy rap music through the bluetooth speaker in my backpack and scream bits of my poetry over it to try and sort out the intention and the breakdown of the wordplay.  I fucking hate drunk drivers, stop trying to kill me. I type everything out on a Smith-Corona memory correct typewriter I got for $12 from the goodwill down the street on my 21st birthday & edit & retype from there. sometimes I'll just cut out lines I really like to glue on paintings. yeehaw.
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