Trying to Explain Ourselves to God After Just the Briefest Stint with an Uncompromising Death

by jerrontables

You see…

The age of reasoning is death–
Warm and in the ground…
And
Help! Help! my paddy melt
Was claimed at lost and found!

Ship! Ship! Potato chip!
Just left and sailed away!
…You know we come from pumpkin seeds
Four missing links away…

And 

I drink my broth
I’m cast me off
I’m piss to whet the clay!
I’m forty-five
and Number WHO
I’m sandwich bag away!

I scribble dibble
NECKLACE STRING!!
I!
Mum mum mum mum mum mum mum mum
Smithering
I….Alltheway, FOUR HUMMERING!
MY SEXTEEN YEARS O’PRAY!!!

 

 

Plus the bloody gloves are too little.

 

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