hahaha, writing here oh ye?
a spoof, a spoof, and come no near
having worked as a blossomed wreck
chase butterflies all day, then I think of sex
sex with a rock picture
sex with the soul o
a private man, through the wood
some days with the oldest hand, this,
which has no name no first memory
no imposing sense
=
every Saturday
she goes
earth gets
back
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