Mild fleas tasty fleas-seasoned beef, cornered my dying breeze.
Stale plastic buzz dangles sweaty fleas, kissing pastries-sweetened crumbs masking the disease.
Up with once u trip along ripe aisles fucking my belief in the tasty comforts, ignoring dripping piss drips , now pleased you bitch.
Swollen fingers tease the fleeting breeze, and those same palms fuck the stick for one more fling, and goats and robbers lick green
Douglas Sinclair
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