Satan built a machine that pulled bullets into hell but so many kids lived that god noticed. The date of this poem is weakness. The date of this poem is the daughters of fathers in ICE drew each on their right knee a face and a blue ghost released its chokehold on breathing. Here is the value of my body if I believe in christ. Here is an angel made from a cop tired of not beating a person. My son is sick in a past that hallucinates brief futures might the illusion of miracle settle on which mother to heal. The date of this poem is drinking is easy because everyone can help you. All bellies are moonmad. Polish the empty eating of humane absence.
kingsoftrain 
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