Is this wherefore I stand at my oei...
Is this wherefore I stand at my oeil-de-boeuf, blowing sugar false shows at that guy in the snazzy black hood? Nipples and waffles rustle a mean last week, molest the constellations oar-locked along our shower curtain. A falling, my heart, a crocus stalls at dawn. Street noise adjusts its head, tumbl among
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