by William Skink

Sometimes, on Saturdays, I let William take the helm for a poem. And this Saturday is one of those Saturdays.

But before getting to my poem for the concern trolls, I wanted to address something one of the trolls said.

Usually feeding the trolls is a bad idea, but this one suggested I could be the one behind the negative comments. There are two plausible reasons for me to do this: I could be trying to pull a Smollett, or I could be trying to drive traffic, since comments does seem to correlate to higher views.

Well, I’m not very savvy when it comes to technology, but I’ll offer this screen shot of the troll’s IP info nonetheless:

If it’s a dynamic IP, probably not much can be gleaned. What I will say is I’m pretty sure Spectrum isn’t an option where I’m at in Missoula County.

Anyway, the poem.

it doesn't have to be goodbye
end obsessors, your materialist cry
has lefty-loosey'd all your screws
and bloody-stained your satan shoes

here I am in Alliance Church
embracing synchronistic quirks
where are you when your heart's done?
lights go out and no more fun?

zombie tool, Lego brick, POP!
is how I know we do not stop
mocking, laughing, I get the need
stemming from a fear to bleed

that's not the flow I got down there
I am NOT womb aware, but
I think I earned my first screams
with the skin they took from me

trust the scalpel?  sorry, no
and fuck off with your jib-jab Joe
mostly I'm a peaceful chap
but I'll piñata your sharp attack

let's not go there, let's not fight
despite the speed you steamroll rights
persistence will not win the day
just deepen spirit:  at night, we pray