Zimmy has an old soul

if you look at his eyes

they are other worldly

the color of Earth’s face

from up in space

it means just what is

but when i heard him this morning

while drinking my mud

these words telegraphed

out from Alexa .1

“Oh my name it ain’t nothin’
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I was taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side”

the shame i felt

rose to waterlines of my

green lined eyes

and the liquid it spilleth over

perhaps it’s the hormones

or the brow beat quarantine

and my cat she ate the dog’s food

but i couldn’t tell her to quit

shaking it off

turning the vacuum on

the dog he shakes his

fluffy white tail

and my thoughts run asunder

white hot sun beaming

brown wood flooring

a meeting of the titans

debacled by the cat

does God pick sides

Nutella

fruit

lavash

rye bread

ramen

and a good fuck while i’m on top

chewing on ice

these things that i like

why am i this way

could it be in black vain

that i ask these strange questions

a dandelion of thoughts

cast into the humidity

answers might or might not

germinate

does God get to decide

from where do i find

recourse for sinning

early i rise

eating my heart out

doing what’s right

one moment gets wasted

my faith goes in haste

my spirit is stuck wild horses help me am i on God’s side