The thing you fail to ever acknowledge
is the prolific rate of your slamming gavel,
that you have a gavel, and it’s self-upheld.
Your determinations are only selfish;
your determinations are simply your wishes,
casted out to your intended recipient
as if this will mandate something-
something always horrid by the way-
as if whatever punishments you cast out
will be upheld by anyone. Anyone.
As if your perceptions are even accurate.
As if offenders of you live through you;
as if offenders of you have nothing of their own
to see days through
beyond your five sentences about them-
Ironically for, doing same things you do.
As if you honestly believe in your victories.
This is the very reason I like you.
And I honestly do.
What is so unfathomable.
Your authority is quite simply non-existent.
Your influence is only that — Influence.
So is mine. Coincidently.
So may be anyone’s.
It’s just a joke you know, bam bam.
How about that for new words in your mouth.
One thought on “Sweet Jesus”
Which five sentences?