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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Little notebooks written sex splatter... just word play, not even really a poem.
on the why spot gray um clouds regather snow april spring what in the snot brick fire escapes the smoke help me lord the what gull sings i wander green fur embraced vege tables oak stained blood flows river flows i flow flow ed to the store for connection correct shunned by jew gentil e and satan ic cultssssssssssssssssssss the radiator hot to go touch um see what? What? yes, that's me. |
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