The Fort Poem by chris bowen
The Fort
sleeves of blood.interested in only fourty weight, the fifty nill, did spill, blood.all is good, every neighborhood has a wooden fence with roses yet to bloom growing across.will the wind whip nill stalls? will the horses call, say amen? will the fidgeting ever stop? the best deal i ever got was to watch a booty drop.
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5/5/2024 10:16:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
