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(20 minute poetry) Fill it in Friday dye it blue, what does anything have to do or anyone have to say, but Friday. send me a test card hung on a lanyard or up on the yardarm where I'm swinging my bones Weismuller's full of something now that guy knows how to swing but you're probably too young to remember him, Guess again I'm back on the underground train and it's snowing down here either that or my eyes have gone queer it could be the light or a trick of the night looks like snow though. Nearly done for the year eight more hours here and a beer for a chaser. Going but not quite, Injecting testosterone deepening my voice a tone heading on home for Christmas.
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Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
Growing smaller
(20 minute poetry) Fill it in Friday dye it blue, what does anything have to do or anyone have to say, but Friday. send me a test card hung on a lanyard or up on the yardarm where I'm swinging my bones Weismuller's full of something now that guy knows how to swing but you're probably too young to remember him, Guess again I'm back on the underground train and it's snowing down here either that or my eyes have gone queer it could be the light or a trick of the night looks like snow though. Nearly done for the year eight more hours here and a beer for a chaser. Going but not quite, Injecting testosterone deepening my voice a tone heading on home for Christmas.
john-edward-smallshaw
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Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
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