Me
Poem
Lazy
Dreams
Sartre made individuality a heck for his own championship.
He would dress as a woman...
Thought of Dim bore.
The goddess deems poetic rap a paper tree.
I wither into your life.
Behind rape, heifer.
Dally with your membership.
Sounds of place.
After this, Lace.
REALITY: Devils cold; their mission: fever.
Crap begins.
Drab as a lintel.
Ick was a rat.
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