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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
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More in Dregs & Other Unreadables in the process of becoming more or less myselfdid you love me more when there was less of me? when my arms did not sag my stomach was flat and all my ribs could be counted was i more beautiful when my smile wasn't creased with all these years and polished with so much love and worry was i more handsome when my hair was untouched by gray winters and my lost kin buried and cold beneath the flowers? did you love me more when I was young? |
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