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Jan 2011
2 & 4, we're forested as soil drinking solids our knees benting smell nosing a lolling gaggle of riotous pink dangles a careless droop over spilling pearly
sharps and crunch!y, cr!unchy; crunc!hy."' the minute deaths rankle or the cool common ground's a sun draped bulging acute beige you heave chesting and spit mouthing the gentle corpse of oxygen
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
811
 
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