breather
infant, the sooner
than expected
search
for god.
I have this baby I’m not afraid to use.
you pretend to shoot
and I’ll pretend
to fall. we’ll make a day
of never talking.
the missing crow of thorns.
infant, the sooner
than expected
search
for god.
I have this baby I’m not afraid to use.
you pretend to shoot
and I’ll pretend
to fall. we’ll make a day
of never talking.
the missing crow of thorns.

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