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April 13, 2024 / barton smock

another wrong afterlife machine

Sorry but if your kids are dying, time exists. God sucks at revenge. I can’t dream during a thunderstorm nor sleep with my mouth closed. All art is about the bomb. When I was sick, I wasn’t. My food was going to hell. It is always too soon to be the angel that appears to Franz Wright. A whale can’t imagine swallowing but here in the anecdotal remoteness of my other stomach is the fat baby made of clothes. Create slowly. Don’t go to heaven. You’re just one person.  

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