I enter my password, and the garage door recedes into the rafters.
Coffee mugs, trashcans, and a birdhouse overflow with pennies.
My yard shrinks as roots map the soil.
I did not listen to the pastor when he spoke of parables.
If time is money, then, due to inflation, my prayers are expensive.
God is the king of paupers.
He is anticipating more time to undertake [insert first end of the world event].
I melt the copper, mold it into bars, and spray paint them golden.
I could pour it on my body, watch blisters rise.
The heaviness when dry, skin that cracks open for nothing.
Thus, it is an improper substitute for blood.