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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Release the Hounds regurgitatingDraft
and some how, he found some way to laugh, but he's tender, and I think that story he told me about some chick he screwed in the dorrm years ago before kids and a wife tamed his sorry ass is only half true. Poetry is, of course shit. There's no debating that. But then, it's not so sad that is what is left after we eat our words. Perhaps, Si and I would not spew so much shit if we shut up more. |
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