There is a crux in a sort of juxtaposition of what it means
To have a friend
As an Agent.
Non-collusionnary and what broke me into Agency,
Was ultimately the affidavit at my own
Sociopathy.
The Lonely Level of One.
I’ve always corroborated in Agency.
I talk shit for Intel.
I maintain for Survivalism.
It took years to start forgiving.
And my own statures of upkeep,
Presumably so.
I’ve never aimed at being a good person.
I’m Celestial in Crystal + Gold.
This too, is worthy.
As I’ve paved attention and discourse away.
Jealousy and Envy, in your Shiel + Thiel Mockery.
And I have to ebate resurrection
Only to witness the same assholes,
Back around the bend.
And you’ve never been to temple.
The Sinner, The Heretic, The Pope.
And thoust is not seen in my blindness.
Come correct.
Trespassing in Heaven,
Asherah would never.
But the lantern falls free.
I love a good job.
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