I guess, in a way, she was right.
I spend too much time pinning people
on their crosses, but they make it
ever so easy for me. They practically
climb up there on their own and spread
their arms; all I need to do is drive
home the nails. Gosh! How I love it
when the clouds smile their marshmallow
smiles that make me want to stretch
my whole body up as far as it will go,
and let out my victory cry in guise
of a hymn whose words I stole from my muse
when she was out role-playing as Lucifer's
sidekick. I believe any poet, unlike her,
whose skills boast of fluidity in words
would not censor my imaginary artworks.
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