jabberwockey with nylon armor and thirty weight oil like the thighs of a doll in the okra snot rain of some monday sweating
and if I were more political would the smooth vase of my throat be angelic slippery elm to the mumified ears of statues that pray
to the son of the sun for some habitual humming drone of peaceful articulation that sooths the grooves inside the squirming of the worm that is man before
he becomes the hawk of rockfighting
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daark
scribblenote: current lack of continence in congressional matters