Guest Shiva H. Vishnu Posted July 15, 2006 Share Posted July 15, 2006 grit limping piss stream of rush hour unctuous breath laquer chocking my wits wind like a paper cut sewes through my lashes "i'm not weeping, you ass"! as i'm blinking back brine two hundred trains tuck the angst in the fringes and all but my train in a kick-line of glory from here to the devils's spitoon shove it dunk it flush it back in the crease-greasing bloat of five thirty i'm barrelling home like a slick shard of glass through the pink eye of dusk Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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