words are slippery things, meanings & inference & subtlety all lost in a blink - twisted, turned, maimed, & unrecognizable in the wrong hands. each year, i read the words of a peacemaker & lover of justice perverted & prostituted for the sake of appearances - a thin dusting of righteous soil to cover the bones of their sins, all done with a grin, uncaring about the duplicity of it all. i too, have a dream - that has-been haters would lose their tongues each January, go mute & simply grind their jaws with confused, wild eyes. i know it isn’t necessarily what he would’ve wanted or the christian thing to do, but dammit, it’d sure as hell feel good, wouldn’t it?