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(Untitled)
Good job, sang the cross-eyed bar of ripe soap,
Thin to the point of oscillating wasps, between knuckle 3
Nipples break their own necks in the loose violet
Her maiden name shaved its own flushed
The right hand infects menus,
In fact it moves below the grass of my shins, the juice of my guns to
A dog-a dog likes to jump ( Read more... )
