DEATH WON’T HAVE A SINGLE DRINK NEAR THE UNEATEN BREAD OF MY BODY by Barton D Smock

Jun 7

DEATH WON’T HAVE A SINGLE DRINK NEAR THE UNEATEN BREAD OF MY BODY

The fiction of the ambulance ate the prose outta christ

I’ve never been alone for three days without calling
creature
creature

Ghost
hates
the wild

I was very angry at the noise that made god

Written by

Barton D Smock 48/M/Columbus, Ohio

(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)

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