I get it
You like poems that look like this.

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well calling on to failing up to nothing but pertaining
on lancerlots head to be inside fucked for widgets and the edging of the mindpringles left shadows on all
around thee when the face is smiling there to smell the dirt while you're awake i'm shining light to glistening showers
around from the time when we ate everywhere
There is silence in the angles of death projectory
This hinders half the battle of waking up the unborn

10/07/2007

Posted on 10/07/2007
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