birthplace,
birthplace 69 God is man’s yearning for a complexity that god cannot recreate. My teeth were fine and the afterlife was doing its thing. I said I wouldn’t say god then made my brother mutter kinder thunder until my killer’s mother kicked her prayed-for stutter. I said god god the moon is dead. Puberty came from its haunted blue mud. A cigarette, a toy. The lost rib of joy.
kingsoftrain 
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