Stump Sitter

go talk with him, he waits for you, by the damned river, the one you dreamed of,  your god as he sits.  attempting to ring you on the phone brought no answer, the mail returned to sender, the door remained locked. tables have turned haven’t they? sounds of outside burned your ears as the sights unfolded your eyes unraveled.  religious men asked what you are and you replied meek, for the meek shall inherit the earth. make up your young mind, time doesn’t halt upon requests. your brain a cluttered table, your insides a empty cupboard. many lives lived in each person? you wont remember this one.  your god is coming.

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