Email Poem

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Poem	You are the roast beef I have purchased and I stuff you with my very own onion. You are a boat I have rented by the hour and I steer you with my rage until you run aground. You are a glass that I have paid to shatter and I swallow the pieces down with my spit. You are the grate I warm my trembling hands on, searing the flesh until it's nice and juicy. You stink like my Mama under your bra and I vomit into your hand like a jackpot its cold hard quarters.
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