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Oct 2016
My words do splits, therefore they do gymnastic flips

this acid pit drips sick masses of glass and ink

Brain ****, call it massive **** pinpointed so accurate

I'm going to a place with no conciseness

I write with my arms Then drop legs and abstract kicks

My abstractions are the thrills of a ride or several attractions

My mental is monumental to some by a fraction

I'm an empty thought that lies in a Casket

Surprise with my habits That's applied to the madness is tragic...

Slithering satisfaction supported strongly surpasses idiots by the masses.

Monumental mysteries mesmerizes men in misery...

I live life to amaze while in a maze of symmetry

I hope what I say Is riveting, Imagery will then cascade into a blaze of remedies

instantly sparking a chain reaction of positive energy...

The negative turns away...along with its enemies...

Ears evolve into eyes then spot their demise

I hope I never get lost in these times.
STLR
Written by
STLR  . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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     Daisy Thompson and Donald Durham
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