The ex-Army sniper accepted Friendly Fire’s full
service financial network as global freedom
The 1X-Army sniper, an alcoholic, mistook a tar
covered concrete block for a serviceable car battery
The 2x-Army sniper lying in the sun’s favorite
side street watched the growing waistlines of the
McMansion expansion generation asking himself
if they were like the Jewish pianos of WWII?
After swearing off Mission mess he realized that
poverty, stress, and street life harvested hope right
out of the bloodstream so often that chemicals of
completion no longer restocked themselves naturally
The negative-X Army sniper died under a dog tooth moon
after a three-drug cocktail: poverty, anomie & alienation
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