floats in jugs
skink wild
skink again
twink oh the horticult
the twi
lite
the haughty cult your
glooking photosynth
underneath the arches[phone
me in a comma from Moscow put this line in other poem what
consonants did you fucksic]
all down
draped
we dream,
we'd ream
horns of the open sp/ace ace
.
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