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Dear Fanged One
This diet drink will conquer the world.
Lord, I’m feeling a nail growing into my toe
like a bad idea. After the surgery
in which the pure silver canister
replaced my brain, I shivered with
buyer’s remorse. Lord, I’m feeling
disgusted about tacos, and I’m
wondering if anything’s wrong. Did
you not get the check? I’m hoping
this diet drink is an invasive species.
Lord, I’m photo-shopping my soul,
overlaying banana leaves with spikes
& leather & real monuments of faith
like thunder & wriggling spines.
Lord, would you be satisfied with my
diet drink? Lord, I am breaking out.
The organ music you commissioned
is killing all the ladybugs.
Lord, This diet drink is working,
all the fences are clearing up.
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