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Connor Veach Feb 2017
Confuse make meddle break a sound, trilobite in the stucotto field merely music but a standing drum with handles Holden. Gold blast in shriek; titanium white in Marshal mopey: Messages of Mediums and a hearsay scald goes galactic, rain pallet wide and knows no planet reducible. Feel and then reel, I zing liquid quality crank, and crack has bountless laden, knows nuggets, and with fact falses out loosely, bound with bark a brain a fusion dance like rotoscope rigid. Has it with faces, and a carouselling cherub sizzles like defiance in. No more marks congratulate dumb-dumb, and have the false equivalency of like. A future has to fade fast, make room for jesty jocular, and a ride with census no love for the dark she’s seen in it.

— The End —