#debt
Because I could not pay at once
the sum was split apart.
A little slice for every month
so I could fill my cart!
The clerk may call it poor man's math,
I call it common sense.
For pounds today are plumper things
than future pounds in pence.
Pay later, friend, pay little now,
let bankers wait the day.
The time discount of money proves
there's virtue in delay.
Just keep the usurer far from me—
my theorem's just and true!
A debt without the leeching rate
is kinder math to do.
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 11:48 AM UTC
all the men who knew how to live have long been dead
The one who showed me car battery contact cleaners
after watching me push start my car backwards by myself for two months
As dead as the geo I totaled at that stop sign when my friend tried to skip my favorite song on the radio
We rode bikes from one side of town to the other when I was young.
My dad taught me to melt the patches on my bike tires. He didnt have a license when he taught me how to drive out of necessity.
Necessity, Like the degree I couldn't afford that I got so I knew how to fix a car myself. Because all the men who knew how to live
Have all been long dead
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 12:51 PM UTC
Religion
-- last call for second guesses
-- last call to change the title
right usual coordinated
sunrise, sunset, seasonal wobble
peak hot to peak cold, seed time
and harvest
Boomer me, fretfu-lless, truly touched
Reliance on another to squeeze
the blemish in the flooded shame zone
Shame on me for being broken, gone
astray on my journey through our past
have a seat, this ain't a ditty or a jingle
this is life, at the end, as seen by folks,
who have to some degree expected it
to end before plural me in this wewas-
When in time one is passed by,
when in mind one is mixed up,
thinking how small a force a worry is,
thinking how short a life in history is,
imagining magical belief redefined,
reimagining being mindful not now,
and now, breathe-ing, feeling lungs fill,
fixing the image of an inside this body
common sense of pattern and position,
a place for processing air that is everywhere,
and then in me, in spirit form, gaseous matter
wishful thinking, sorted from anxious thought,
meeting encouraging words long thought true,
or truly taught as true if you can handle truth,
everyone who asks receives, can that be true?
What is enough and enough to share, if not true
when taken as granted one ration, one share of
plenty, already here, enough and more than enough
while having intelligence from far away, of course,
as with the fool who believes the news as told today.
We, the free and the brave, we may have retold lies,
the conversion from thoughtless trust to true rest,
accepting science in consciousness, dividing faith in fact,
from faith in if-then promises put to the test and found,
plenty for the moment, mental motive reconsideration,
Pleiades sweet influence, patience perfecting prayer, waiting
to make believe I believe I have
enough for now, and hope enough to carry on, waiting
for the truth to free my fretful self from my happy person.
the praxis, the making up of certain honed points…
practice practice practice Billy Graham
boasted about wanting to preach so bad,
he had to go out in the bottoms and shout
Hellfire and brimstone at the peeping frogs.
--
Wisdom from above is not love, its peaceable
feeling, swallowing some story whole, chokes
the whole idea of why out of a child, exposed
to the way Eli Weisel made us understand a why
I can remember QUEENS FOR A DAY
WHO ONLY WANTED A TATOO REMOVED, on TV
who thinks hate is easy to untie, once tied wrong,
ah
fret not, Jung has an archetype
at the ready, slippery gnosinots
just for Granny Knots,
and another essence
for Daddy wounds.
--
Practice preaching teaching memorized,
fret not, only believe, believe, believe
relieve the misbelief by asking truth, free me
from my debts, take my transgressing mind
across the line limiting my ability to accept
answers that answer yes, take and eat, only
believe
"to have faith or confidence" thinking fine,
what is true, ask a dead man,
And faith is neither the submission of the reason,
nor is it the acceptance, simply and absolutely
upon testimony, of what reason cannot reach.
Faith is:
the being able
to cleave to a power of goodness appealing
to our higher and real self, not
to our lower and apparent self.
[Matthew Arnold, "Literature & Dogma," 1873]
And the wheels on the bus go round and round.
Fidelity of message sent forward from ever ago,
freedom from is coupled with freedom to make
believe, for the time at hand, all is as it must be.
Fret not, "
And by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches."
For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again: but the wicked shall fall into mischief.
Have I not trusted, have I not enough and enough to share, how have my transgressions become missed
chances lost in all my yesteryears jeering me on,
loser, loser, good for nothing *** none who rely on me,
have hope in truth for their faith in my supply of plenty,
drawn from true luck in fact, conceivably drawn from breaths taken and put to living uses in our shared pasts
Scribbling nonsense stirring up old word based faith,
finding myself a lazy person expecting wisdom truly
freeing me from fretting about money in 2026, when
thousands are suffering under monstrous powers
thousands are without enough of all that ought be free
for the asking, according to the religions at work among
the poor who accept hope
as the substance
faith can make feel thinkable,
realizable peaceably thought through
-- some time later that one day…
Giving and receiving, being fooled and fooling
for a while reconceiving how hope makes faith,
and faith keeps the faithful performing, in hope,
taking time that is mine to make use of or waste,
asking all that wisdom is to make use of my asking
as if asking while thinking it is vain to ask again, if
having asked and thought long the rhema logic, if
all things work together, as I must say I do believe,
all things working at scales I mentally can grasp, if
I have use of these magnificent letters to hold thought,
at what if or wonder if stages, leaving be the evidence,
not falsely so called, in seed stage curiosity, idle amenable
agreeable weform reformed under all that we have learned,
about the literal truth, the letter that lets us think together,
fret not because of evil men, yet we fret for our children,
why have we no whole idea of we, the people of earth
?
---- okeh, I was poor
long enough to know it
Look at me, I say to me, see me be
what I think I am to any not me being
logos y nada mas, mere mind in order or chaos,
what work does meditation on the difference make,
spoken word, written word, put to the task of reasoning,
asking my child self if I believe in Jesus, as a sent messenger,
or if I have long held as true a telling of a made belief, pretend
I am sure I do not know how to eliminate the weight of debt
that the society I was born into allowed and my ignorance
kept me innocent to this degree, I trusted the authority,
I trusted the grownups I was entrusted to by parents even more
restricted in what they could have known for sure and certain,
-- the anointing and the explanation, now it all is artifice, unless
ah we agree, me and my two sides of rationality, artfully hoping
to make some semblance of balanced acceptance and expectation.
Under the practice of asking in my core thought process, if truth
can make my troubling cogitations make a single hair white or black,
can my acceptance of a stored story's moral worth, make a false a true?
Have I not defended the faith I accepted when I was very broken, badly
formed fit for no honest labor nor any winning awarded peace in rest and love,
I am near tears to think of this, to look at the rhema spoken, tithes paid,
services rendered, all apparently amounting to this state, altered or otherwise
alone, am I, aware I am not the only writer writing to myself, to hold the whole
idea that magic thinking is just what I have believed believing in miracle freedom
from cares and worries, freedom from ******* to creditors who I know are evil
at the core where usury, long known to be evil, is causing this fretting in me,
I feel the claws of a trap I was enticed into by ignorance on my part, and I am sore
discouraged from saying I believe I have been made free from my transgressions,
my misteps my misbeliefs my misconceptions held as true enough to say I have believed
asking brings true answers, not art, not more than heart can think or ask, but useful
when feeling need to be set free from contracts within the conqueror's privilege,
as when I went into a bubble of made believers made to make a liar rich and trusted
as I live and breathe, the spirit in the spoken words told me in my meditations, only believe
by my will, filled with hoped for faith,
indeed, hoping against hope
for some today, far worse
conditions
in refugee camps and homeless shelters, here, I sit,
under mortgage
and fear and disappointment
from true hopes not only deferred but pretty much crushed,
sick at heart am I, not lying
to myself, not able
to say -- unless I redefine the terms, enough
and enough
to share that does good, enough good,
to take away such despair, such grief
there is in the interconnected minds
of mankind who have been led astray, life,
in truth
breathing answers to distant prayers, sighing amen,
give us this day our reason
to continue, give the hopeless hope,
and make the mistaken debts be taken out
of the way, help
for today where help is needed
in full measure, today,
help the helpless, help the unworthy
on any economic scale, help the sick hording proud ones
unbelieve any lies about truth we all have been prone to tell.
Honed most me,
tov ra' friction in my shame,
shame that I have become helpless, shame
beautifully intricately knotted recoknown
that I am not nearly so helpless, as many,
many I have seen afar off
on our televisions,
made plain, seen afar off
in legendary cedar nations ruined
by the powers that have made science evil.
The minds we must imagine have been twisted
into commodities we imagine we could sell if we
knew how the entertaining empires pay for words
explaining visions we must sympathize with, without
any hope to make one severed limb regrow.
____________
A brief friend,
among the many there have been,
this one was destined
to become rich, not me,
he was a gambling man, fretted to death
unless my debt did get disgiven, ungiven for gotten gain,
enough, shout it to the heavens,
enough, be reasonable,
think how we are shattered
and broken and reasoning, asking why would we lie
to our children about God,
why would any wisdom suggest that on Earth
as seen from Saturn, or Voyager, war insures peace?
The truth that frees,
the spectacle spectator,
the specialist speculation
All in on peaceable test, one more time
all in on gentle test,
all in on gone and done.
All in agreement just said amen.
All in opposition just sorta grinned,
and gave us the push we simply hoped for.
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 7:02 PM UTC
and I will be paid
praying the money
stretches
two Fridays
and the past
two decades
I have been
balancing past
who will collect the debt
when it all comes
trickling
down?
because no one will
be around
when they come
knock-
knock-
knocking.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 4:45 PM UTC
i fall in and out of love
like it’s the last dance
i’ll ever share with life
the debt of this beauty
exhausts me into submission
but i live to see another day
it’s a struggle being awake
i can hardly respond to messages
although writing poetry is inevitable.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 10:07 PM UTC
onetime ownership has turned into never ending rent
everything is monthly paid,
rent
leasing
subscriptions
streaming
getting rid of CDs
music can be deleted
digital games
the latest phones
mortgages, “owning homes”
the prices keep going up
increase in outgoing’s every month
small monthly payments that quickly add up
you work so hard, and it’s still not enough
just a little fee
just a little greed
a little bit of dependency
in exchange for everything you “need”
Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 11:38 AM UTC
call me the grinch
i like how he thinks
christmas is all about the material things
they cut down the trees, there’s excessive use of energy
they’re lighting up their homes with fairy lights and LEDs
oh so satisfying to the eye
but unfortunately, the planet dies…
season is over, so all the lights come down
everyone is posting now
how are we supposed to know you enjoyed christmas if it wasn’t posted about?
extravagant displays, too much paper waste
opening up the packaging just to throw it all away…
so much damage, weeks ahead you’re already planning,
all the things you’re buying
children around the world are dying, whilst you stress about not getting the latest “must-have items”
to me, christmas highlights the socioeconomic divide
some are choosing between having presents or keeping on the lights
there are struggling parents that just don’t want to say no to their child
everything is so much more bleak when the lights go out
some pockets left full, many left empty
everything was light, but the debt was heavy
now it’s january,
christmas only made you happy temporarily
now i get why they said “tis the season to be jolly”
people are happy with getting and giving gifts when spending all their money,
but when it’s all gone nothing is funny…
piled up bills, tired, and depressed
then they sell you a coffee,
it’s a joke…
what they meant was “tis the season to be broke”
so honestly i don’t mind if you call me the grinch,
i like how he thinks
he was right…
christmas was all about the material things
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC
We hear the marching step:
the fear of falling deaf to screams
that echo what’s been written on the walls,
the halls of foreign fadings,
legionnaires in limbo, marking time.
We write a river’s worth o’ppeals
to fight the footstrong feels
but lust big shots we drain
to calibrate our tanks to treason
‘gainst the logic of the vine.
Seek light! Unfold, unwind!
And now,
just callow beggars
swapping credits for a fix,
chip reader bliss beeps “been approved”
to addicts’ ears –
sink lower, wipe away the tears;
you’ll die before it’s sorted out -
whether it is heights
or falls we talk about.
Just press a ladle to a swan,
dip out a portion of his song to sample:
fatal if you let it play,
know when to hold and when to stay.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 4:30 PM UTC
money is sacred to me—
because i never had it.
we borrowed bread
from neighbours
at the end of the month,
waited for donations,
and watched my father
settle his debts
to bar owners
instead of us.
i learnt to sit small
in the corner
with peach juice,
while he ordered
beer and pálinka.
he kept bottles in the pantry,
pretending we couldn’t hear
the corks easing free.
when i left,
i carried eighty pounds
in my pocket,
with a luggage filled with air,
a week’s worth of clothes,
a soft blanket, no duvet.
but a hunger for something
i couldn’t yet name.
it was freedom.
never money.
now, that it’s mine,
it does nothing to me.
it bends, but doesn’t hurt.
i saved, built with it,
learnt to breathe
on my terms.
it comes, and leaves
when it wants.
and that, to me,
is wealth enough.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 6:52 AM UTC
You staggered through the double doors,
a trail of red on bleached-out floors.
The night was humming, wet and mean,
your busted life in Trauma Green.
I clamped your vein, soft as thread,
and dared the gods to count their dead.
You lay there broken, no ID,
just blood and ache and urgency.
Your heart fell quiet inside my hand,
as if it paused to understand.
Then breath returned in stuttered moans.
your chest arched up
to meet my own.
The wound was sealed. Your sigh came slow.
You could have left.
You didn’t, though.
The sweat still clung.
Your gaze went slack.
You pulled the gown and turned your back.
I saw you later, checkout nine:
frozen dinners, boxed red wine.
You seemed like someone death forgot,
barely awake, missing the plot.
You looked right through. You didn’t know
the hands that pulled you from below.
You don’t remember. I can’t forget
how thin the stitch, how deep the debt.
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 7:27 PM UTC
I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he seemed straight-backed, correct,
devoted to his role as our protector (and his children’s)
yet I thought perhaps too deeply in debt, indentured
to the rules and laws of legislators and destined
to be disappointed (or worse). I thought his courage
and devotion (to whom or what?) would surely
be poorly repaid and that this lesson
was necessary to ready him with wisdom
for death or further living. I worried like a brother
about the unpredictable dangers, even terrors,
he must daily face, and the pleasure he takes in facing them.
How will he return to the fragility of family,
of the soul alone, after wielding the force
of the state, the blind, combined will of us all?
Next a business exec, retired from a well known
global investment firm. At first we talked about
the lush beauty of the northeast compared to the arid west
(although he loves every inch of the west, too).
Then somehow we got beyond light conversation
when he complained about the perceived decline in values
for instance how the Ten Commandments can’t be publicly
displayed. He said we can all agree on God
but I said I have a mechanistic view of the universe
(although the unknowable always sits just out of reach
of the known). I told him my dad’s theory of reincarnation,
a good man and a corporate seeker of God also, whose shoes
I could never fill unless I swore belief in a supreme being.
No hard feelings. Then he told me the story
of his dying friend, an atheist, not even a deist
like the founding fathers, who opened his eyes for the last time
to correct the exec’s misperception that now he’d meet his maker.
Having exceeded the bounds of acceptable conversation
I went looking for my children. Nothing more to question.
Oct 11, 2022
Oct 11, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC
I didn’t see the gorilla
who just walked through
There was to much information
where my eyes were glued
While the copious lecture
I ride along
At memorising manual
I’m not that strong.
Community college was such a breeze. I still owe money for their worthless degree.
In America, that’s how we roll!!
Paying for our education
while we’re growing old.
….
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 9:30 AM UTC
The Triffin Dilemma shows the conflict
Between a nation’s domestic monetary
Policy and international obligations when
Its money is the global reserve currency.
The US must supply dollars globally to
Meet demand, leading to trade deficits
And issues such as inflation and debt.
Therefore
Bitcoin offers a potential solution by
Operating outside of any one nation.
As a decentralized currency, it halts
The need for any one country to bear
The burden of reserve currency status.
Bitcoin’s fixed supply stops inflation and
The global reach serves every nation.
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 12:50 PM UTC
I’ve bitten my tongue so many times,
my mouth is lined with scars,
sealing away the words I long to speak,
so they don’t wound you where you already bleed.
But the silence is heavy, and so am I—
weighed down by words unspoken,
by love held too carefully in shaking hands,
afraid to crush you, afraid to lose you.
I want to be patient, to be kind,
to trust in the things you’ve told me,
but my mind is a restless thing,
spinning doubts like spiderwebs,
catching my hope in threads of fear.
Because I know you love me—
but love has never been my safe place.
Love has always been a thing
that slips between my fingers,
even when I hold it with both hands.
So when you tell me you’re coming,
when you say I am the one you want,
a part of me clings to the words,
while another waits for them to fade,
to turn into echoes of promises past.
And maybe that’s why I can’t breathe
when I watch you stand in the rain,
drenched in a debt you never had to pay.
You think you owe her,
but you don’t owe her a ********* thing.
Not your time, not your strength,
not your love, not your future.
And me? I am here, dry and warm,
with open arms and an open door,
and a love that does not ask for sacrifice,
only for you.
But is it fear that keeps you there?
Or is it that I am something to want,
but not something to choose?
Do I exist in the space between your steps,
always longed for but never reached?
I do not doubt you, but I doubt love.
I doubt the things that have never stayed,
the dreams that have always been just out of reach.
I war with myself, torn between believing
and protecting the parts of me
that have been left behind before.
But you are not them.
And I do not want to let fear
build walls where doors should be.
So come home to me.
Not because I need you,
but because you need this.
A love without chains,
a life without guilt,
a place where you can just be
without always fighting to be enough.
And still, I stand at the edge,
staring down into the fall,
wondering if I will be caught,
or if I will crash—
just another foolish heart
that believed in something too much.
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 9:14 PM UTC
We are but perpetual donkey's chasing a carrot
on an invisible rod
suspended from our collar.
Oh how I love that mighty dollar.
In my pocket, in my bank
I love the way money stinks!
Credit unions deep in debt
I haven’t lost my bitcoin yet..
Invisible credit shall suffice
like you the bank robs me
most every night..
So....
Buy some silver, buy some gold,
buy some land before you fold..
The love of money
can be a hell of a load..
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 6:49 AM UTC
to be loved today.
It slowly kills me
to try and repay
this debt for eternity.
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 7:27 PM UTC
These feelings are like a credit card---
sliding in and out the machine of a man’s heart
__Please enter your code:__
to withdraw the worth of love, but I’m really not someone
To bank on all of your love- it’s a result of nothing;
sometimes feeling so fake, with this plastic debit card
__INSUFFICIENT FUNDS__ not all of us can afford
the worth to love; so insecure much, not one to close
the deal; don’t come too close, don’t give me a long hug
Just like my card, I might loudly decline your very love…
Hiding the pin to my very heart- four digit requirements;
four reasons you need to give me, to be revealing ****
Or did I mean to say sheet; either way, its all a cover to
cover around the fact I have a ****** mindset about love
A love I never bought, but I did buy a bunch of its dreams
-it must explain why I’m feeling so broke nowadays
Jul 31, 2024
Jul 31, 2024 at 3:20 PM UTC
Bound by time, blinded by love
Decorated in flesh; for this present moment-
And by the end of a lifetime, we’ll be unwrapped
Out of that box, as the souls to rise up to Heaven above
Still, I cannot sit and watch over days
That would never show interest to watch over me
Days have taught me that a broken heart puts itself
On great guard, and that which remains patiently quiet
During hate, is a brave heart always choosing love
And we could all live together, but often die alone
Mourning our memory together, but neither of the
***** secrets you’ve kept, shall be a burden for
Any of the living, forced in somebody's debt, to own
Jul 28, 2024
Jul 28, 2024 at 7:41 AM UTC
All my **** got repossessed
By an aardvark in a leather vest
That he swears is only vinyl
But won’t tell me where to buy my own
He says if I can go six months
With no late payments
On my credit card statements
He’ll let the name slip
I’ve got to get my **** together
Or this cruelty-free vegan sleeveless pleather
Statement piece might slip away from me
So, these days, I’m
Dedicated to paying
This debt I’ve accumulated
Despite the social detriment
Withdrawal and depressive episodes
All in the name of
Improving my credit score
Until when?
The day comes up
That I’ve paid for the stuff
That I bought without paying for
I’m practically stable
By now
The aardvark from the IRS
Reappears as my remaining debt and interest
Dwindles into a less pressing account
For the withholding public servant
Who’s about to grant me access
To the privileged information
I’ve been craving for months
It was an Etsy shop
And they’re all sold out
Dec 21, 2023
Dec 21, 2023 at 9:50 AM UTC
In shadows cast by burdens' weight,
I wander through a bleak estate,
Where debts entwine like chains of fate,
And dreams of love lie desolate.
Oh, wretched soul, trapped in this snare,
My heart, once hopeful, now stripped bare,
For love's embrace seems all but fair,
As debts devour the joys we share.
The golden band that graced my hand,
A symbol of a promised land,
Now tarnished by the debtors' brand,
A bitter curse I can't withstand.
With each passing day, a mounting toll,
A debtors' song, an endless role,
No solace found in midnight's shoal,
As dreams of wedded bliss take a toll.
I yearn to hold my lover near,
To banish all the doubts and fear,
But in this realm of debts austere,
Our love's sweet whispers disappear.
The wedding bells, a distant chime,
Lost amidst this pitiless rhyme,
As debts entangle, stall, and bind,
Our future fades, a shattered mime.
No fairytale ending shall we find,
For love's foundation, undermined,
By creditors' greed, so unkind,
Our plans to wed, forever confined.
Oh, cruel fate, with callous glee,
You douse our hopes, relentlessly,
In this abyss, we'll cease to be,
A tragic tale of debt's decree.
So let my tears flow like a river,
For shattered dreams and love's endeavor,
As debts consume, and hearts deliver,
A woeful dirge, a love that withers.
In the depths of debt's relentless snare,
A lover's union, left threadbare,
A somber tale of love's despair,
Bound in the debt's suffocating lair.
Jun 17, 2023
Jun 17, 2023 at 4:48 AM UTC
when time was something that passed
rather than to be grasped
finishing post in sight
chequered flag on the sat nav
telling you you've arrived
when time was acres of summer sunshine
not pollution coated air, holes in the ozone
worrying about global warming
but still building building building
for the future they say....
when time was your own to cherish
not jobs to do meetings to attend
places to visit but not really see
bills to pay questions to answer
a debt to honour for the ever after
when time just existed
it felt like forever
now there's no forever after
Feb 18, 2023
Feb 18, 2023 at 6:09 AM UTC
~
*I work in the clouds
Building a world out of hype
I could be a beekeeper
A prison guard
Reverse pop idol
Extinguishers, all
Hackers ferry contemporaries
Around the diseased city
Merchants of transference
Polymorphing
Paths and angles
Pieces of eight
They could be brutal war fantasies
White noise translations of the snow
Cathedral nights in the deli
Ghost recordings from an opera house
Each with its own price tag
All the pretty girls
Thick with mascara
Go to plasticity
Drink chloroform
100 aspects of subterranea
So long as they come home
With a credit problem
Money devotion
It's what transferred us
Into numbered silhouettes
Slavishly pouring our blood into the sea*
~
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 5:12 PM UTC
"I tried hard to be useful, but no dice"
No, you're right, it's not dice I'm calling for
For Law's a game of chess, it isn't nice:
To blame it all on chance is prison-poor.
We know exactly what we are doing,
But, true, it's d*mn convenient to say
"Just luck of the draw the blighter's ruined,
He should have made it out until payday.
He should have not been born into the slums,
He should have pulled himself up by the hair,
Taken example from our glorious sons,
And to cap it all off, life's rather unfair."
That he has to wait an age to see someone
Who'll legally diagnose him off the stream:
His parents kicked him out when too far gone,
Let dreams alone, a bed is just a dream.
While other lucky kids who made it through,
Whose parents got them to adulthood ripe,
Contend with debt and scrounging their way through
What by true Reason should be our birthright.
What crime is it, to be born silver-spoonless?
We do not ask to take the spoon from them,
But give us but a means to feed ourselves,
Give us a means, we'll polish our own gems.
Give us a means, you who hold your fist tight,
"Hiding" the fabled "dice" in golden rings,
Youth, by your fault, isn't growing up right,
And tomorrow, we're taking charge of things.
With nature, dice exist, but nurture, not,
And standing trial, we point our hand at God,
And He explains, "Have all you quite forgot,
The evil that Man does won't count as odds?"
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 7:13 PM UTC
your
shallow soul
folds
like linen
into my
empty pockets
This,
I can always
count on
Nov 3, 2021
Nov 3, 2021 at 7:56 PM UTC