I will clean a pen
so when I don’t use it it
theoretically
would ink the tablet I don't have in my backpack along not with my malfunctioning pen I deeply strained my hamstring tripping on step stool saved my life, forehead melonwise split on endcap I am grateful to limp pleased I can still dodge but alerted: I never almost died tripping and twanged an ouchy like an old man with dry pens and inkless tablet
| Faith cannot be bought |
| though fake belief can be smoked |
| but not if it’s not |
| cured in honest rot |
| slow-roasted in extra-hoaxed |
| faith of the tree knot |
| Zealots can be bought, |
| taught to hear each word spoken |
| as instruction not |
| faith, grifts’ full jackpot…. |
| I’ve faith in trees, and my broken |
| faith is overwrought |
| but not for sale. Caught |
| paying for belief I joked |
| slap’s most when it’s not |
| My faith leaves a blot |
| in every hole ever poked |
| Faith cannot be bought |
| Find a free tree knot |
I still believe fool
me always faith’s taproot hope’s
baitless hook, won’t look
right side up or wrong
sideways with bleach or lye or
hint of ghosticide
I like my gods fine
I leave them alone and back
My desk is dead trees
