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Who Cares?
My collection of sins are worth more with time.
A son of Eve; I am roaming Eden naked inside.
With judgment dutifully passed and the mark branded.
I am now a lifetime member of Satan’s speak-easy.
Never shall I walk in the shadows of God's grace.
Instead I prefer the swine as my divine dinner guests.
My shit-filled shenanigans sour the fruit basket.
I am the ant at the pearly gates picnic party.
The heckler from hell...literally.
A deviant in a room full of decency.
I could continue this for eternity.
Writing funny little quips about how I am the demon seed.
Just give me an hour and I can give you pages.
It's pathetic really but cathartic for me.
So fuck it, who’s more the fool?
The writer or the reader?
Who cares?
