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Joe Satkowski
Poems
Sep 2013
untitled 15
before he died
his breath was sour
it smelled like whiskey
flock to me
adorn me in funerary robes
build me into a messiah
so i can bruise myself in your name
i promise to you
i ******* swear to all i have left that i would finish creating you
but our time has run out
Written by
Joe Satkowski
United States
(United States)
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