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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Nov 2017
Misadventure
Buck the system
try to **** the system
and they'll find you in a field
filled with lead
dead.
Then they'll call it suicide,
no gun to be found but
hey
guns can run and hide
can't they?
We are being spied on
twenty four
seven,
satellite imagery follows
your trajectory
and every where you go
they know.
Rufus told me,
it's me talking fuckery,
which I think means
he doesn't believe me
but you do
don't you?
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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