Monday, October 31, 2022
Wednesday, October 26, 2022
Thursday, October 13, 2022
What is a dative
That was his quiz
Drilling, jabbing, spitting pride
Supposedly to prove a point
An imaginary point, too
Something to do with the sign of the cross
But most likely to convince his opponent
He knows better than everyone in the room
While he sits on his couch
Next to his doormat
And doting disciple
The unholy trinity
Of He, Helpmeet, and ὕβρις
I wish there was an easy way to say this, but John was right about the jailor.
Tireless propaganda tames all but the few whose faith is whole.
I remember you well. I don’t remember everything,
but what I remember from back then is the same I heard today.
You are hurt. Nobody responds to your stupid texts.
Nobody calls you, or checks in, or pays you a visit, or invites you over.
Always deflecting. Always insulting. Always hearing but not listening.
Always gaslighting. Always the victim. Always the expert. Always the same.
Fifty-eight minutes is all it took to remember why your four distanced themselves.
In your eyes the four are Stewards. Milk does feed calves and dung does not.
Always reformed but never reforming, and trying to make them think.
That milk is the same sort of thing as sweat or dung.
One is always the soldier at war. One is always attacked. One is always justified.
That one is a horrible human being. Not horrible, as in wicked—
—horrible in the sense of pathetic, and mean, and hypocritical,
and self-aggrandizing, and argumentative, and petty, and embarrassing.
This is why your four don’t bother with you anymore.
Tireless propaganda tames all but the strong whose hearts they break.