Last week I tricked a close friend into believing I was an arson at age 8. That I accidentally burnt down a church basement because I was inspired by the burning bush. Now I send her arsonist subject poetry; I’m pretty sure she’s caught on to my bullshit. haha  


Pernicious thoughts stormed his head.

Empty buildings, all unkept.

Imagine if they all came down

with scorching flames to clean the mess. 

-George Woodward

The Non-Existing Miracle

George Woodward
A hoarder stands alone in his tumbling mess,
Hoping his prayers get answered liked the rest,
For time, guidance, and strength; he wished to be bless,
Therefore not convicted and seen as a pest.
Depression enhanced as the time grew slower,
Why have you cast me, he shouts to the heavens,
Leaving me to die, isolate me faster,
Yet the memories remain, for I’m the sermons.
The one’s whose pious thoughts preach ill hypocrisy,
Suddenly, succumbed but he aptly awakes,
Great Truth, revelations that are less gloomy.
Enlighten by the truth, his wounds cease of aches.
It takes a man to answer his own prayers,
So he walked home to clean out his past affairs.