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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Dregs & Other Unreadables ice flows in northern canadaclimb the glacier to the top where the view is utter perfect beneath our icy toes then cast down the songs the dead bards left unsung when they were too weak to climb here. let my iron tongue caress you whip by whip and leave you raw and bloody like all muses as the poets finish with them. then we can sled back down on the edge of the tabogan screaming out and praying as if God loves us. |
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