Monday, February 6, 2017

Same Street asYour Last Fart

The endtimes agree with your Arabian rug. You present fascicles of presumptuous moan as a record of granulated traits. Askable sky resumes Topic, now slowed by aging ask. Plumes the misery of adjusted now in frantic cadence. We all can see a trace of rapture in the mud you swell in. You tunnel from the town, the town heals the line.

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