your voice never waivers
while you spit your treason
and twist the strings
that force falsified movement
of your favorite marionette:
Me.
or maybe it was the one you taught me how to use
before your ghost was all that remained.
it's probably in storage...
somewhere inside a box marked:
"the things he held most often."
I'm still unsure how the cacophony continues
without weakening or cracking
except when time stops
and God smiles down upon me.
I imagine the rest of the time
he's too busy with bureaucracy
and my guardian angel
is acting as his secretary.