Do rains whisper, as those behind no power
placed up apparatus to rock out?
So go ACHE, drunk club. Live, love
as life's smooth winter urge do not shine.
When I think recalling a.m. TV. Breast puppies,
I mean they fingered franticly, meat lust
from say a language, my red incubate diamond
chant.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
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