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I walked lines and drew them I wrote lines and snorted them. I don't know, maybe my brain was hemmed by a stem in my gene pool. We reamed these fools, for that one day we can say, hey like Willie Mays' catch in 1952. Unless you were finely dined by these lines. I am nothing, but grit and broke. Hopefully the smoke will rise... through these lines.
0
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
Fine Lines
I walked lines and drew them I wrote lines and snorted them. I don't know, maybe my brain was hemmed by a stem in my gene pool. We reamed these fools, for that one day we can say, hey like Willie Mays' catch in 1952. Unless you were finely dined by these lines. I am nothing, but grit and broke. Hopefully the smoke will rise... through these lines.
poems, poetry, love, poems, about poetry
tim-eichhorn
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
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