hope

for anything breath makes alive

rusty grieves roman grief a brick raw law is roman press on raw bombs.  I am upside down.  fathoming art.  The loud words come in my voice.  Race/murder/men.

what brown god bars my lines alive?  what poem here heals hope alive?

Tension dies brown alive brown hearts Sartre god deals back raw her.

I do not find entertainment in death











SHOUTING raw bombs pee alive where bink laows language cancer mack is canker god.  Men act nowhere for hock of my waste.









Inside the atom I see raw crock denying mack alive for reasons of raw preachers.  Inside out preachers lie on the railroad track as the train charges toward the race? war in my paper.

ILGO raw money sucks.

I spread dreams upside down above a whore I made.