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and i can see Betelgeuse in the oil of your orbit Simon says to twist- contort; knots in throat i'd like to file a police report; don't hang up sneakers on the power linesasphalt in your arteries
headlights in stark spaces where the bones curled in the stasis of the veins, vermilion capillaries;bloodstains like velvet Januaries:crackle out like lightning- thundering like bursting hearts; 
When a man gives his opinion, he’s a man When a woman givers her opinion, she’s a bitch. It’s hard out here for a bitch In a place where for every man’s dollar women make 78 cents
Poor little bunny, you ran out in front. Fast as the blowing wind, the only thing on your mind was getting across.
it trembles, a crooked form caught in a black sea, its surface stagnant now – the still waters rumble with the passing of cars and unmoving eyes, casting deep shadows over its small
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