Written with disappearing ink, only to maintain ones present in life for the open bar of Christ’s blood.
Obsessive Jesus-eaters learned through pressed hands and Amen.
I’ll smile once their havens of torture are set ablaze, the divinity of our worth will triumph.
Our children will laugh and play, a somber dissonance will warm us when climates are harsh.
Alas this dream is hopeful thinking. Burn churches, end church-going.
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