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wearisome is the ardent wine, icy corridors we sooty birds descend nimbly into nests high in drear corridors, collecting leafy glisten among the psychotic-seeming industry and throng of souls' bitter rinds. i, tunneled roots, blackened bark clinging feebly peel away, reveals then what teething bishops sung. a petty triumph of marrow... boxcars and boxcars clangin' fertile to the fallen ladders

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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