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  Feb 2021 Larry Scott
Ky
Between the lines
of now and then,
you’re drawing me
with ink and pen.
Every ridge
and every curve
you’re carving out
what I deserve.
Tangled veins
and knotted hair,
a thunderstorm
of senseless care.
Between the breaths
of God and man-
You’re writing me
just as I am.
With fractured bones
and black-hole eyes,
painted purple,
ringed with lies.
All I am
is what you see
and what you make
is all I’ll be.
Larry Scott Feb 2021
"But, God I don't want comfort,
I want Poetry, I want danger,
I want lust, I want sin."

"In fact," said God, " you want
the right to be unhappy."

"All right, then, I'm claiming
the right to be unhappy."
I replied definitely.

" Also the right to grow old
and ugly and impotent; the
right to be lazy; the right to
look forward to a happier
tomorrow; the right to live
with unspeakable sins of
every kind."

"I claim them all." I said.

Then God shrugged his shoulders
and smiled and said.
"Your welcome."

— The End —