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We were just friends But it wasn’t meant to be I loved you But you didn’t bother with me Left me on read
Dingy green metal Flecks of paint flaking off like dandruff Corners set in stagnant water, Leechy muck in the slimerot of the shadows Little door slides open with a screech
Dear Earth,   Your rolling fields of amber grass, Cerulean waves of primeval, And skies painted with ripe orange, bubblegum, and perfect aubergine Are no longer as beautiful as they once were.  
A jumble of thoughts Bunch of nonsense Meaningless atoms Combined into ashes An infinite void Of blinding black Of looming white Everything explodes Into beautiful nothing
Years spent stuck in my old habits they're so hard to let go of Dents in these walls, loco enough to blow, but i got no motive So explosive they say i need a therapist, to attack my head like a terrorist
What death has become me? Concrete depths towards nothing. Consuming the delicious earth hallowed out by passege ways of metal and fire. Electricity Dirt and  Trash.
The table stays the wood is grey  a light sull yellowed tingy yellow brown when on the bench  the hobo sleeps the homo weeps the political correctness steeps and for weeks and weeks
no soul in east williamsburg thinking about something other than walk my baby to school today, pour me a cup of iced coffee and put the lid on, someone spare me some change for a metrocard,
It's simply disgusting, repugnant, Completely and Utterly sickening.   The stench hits your nose first, and through your gloves, You can feel the cool muck leaking through the holes
I'd like to take a second, Only a second out of your day. Please, listen. What do you say? Rushing, running, racing. Always in a hurry, almost like a chase. Not caring about others, or taking in the Earthly surroundings in your face.
just go retire. get fired. now. please.oh wait. we can’t get rid of you?then you might as well listento what all you trashy teachersalways have to say
Voice…what is it? Why is it that there are so many types?Some have voices…like the Mona Lisaand others have it as the crushedpaper you find in wastebaskets.
Looking for a warning sign Amidst Earth’s complex design Light little plastic bags Jellyfish to the turtles with our tags   Our pistons out on an ego trip Guzzling so fast, we need an IV drip
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