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"drugpushers" poems
My coffee is tepid and so is the sky. The clouds snap shadows to the floor and demonize the sleeping Bum's silhouette. It's funny, you can't help but feel that life would be simpler eating twisted crap out of dumpsters. But what those ******* Bums don't know is that they are missing out on some of the best things in life; money, self-respect. But then again I don't see any of those drugpushers give a **** about self-respect. And your money is as valuable as the **** you want to poison yourself with.
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Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 5:01 PM UTC
A Shitsville Narrative, part two.