lay was handing bark to the soft peaceful land (quirting)
Stank softly softly words dream, peace poo. Tops me w/
Loans from crane (book for dolls). Sick is my presence
As teachers free blameless toddlers from my mind in its
Carcinogenic carapace withering into low blazes.
I ask for randy to read me with his stinking flowers
whose bodies climb my flamboyant razorous hellish
Manque (quirt) stop here and draw your ways please.
Sylvia seared, singed and braided my trace with blazing
Halls.
Elspeth and her night: Crows ha ha flask try their cake I monitor that which stars handily: Sickness palls the anger inward of loud tom. She who quietly talks of phantasies molting and milking quare traces of being where language hails crane: Treat as raving lace.
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