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It seems like collaging poetry vicariously though people moved by the spirit or not can only end up being equivocating while you voyeur on life. It's like the 'true crime' of poetry being on the trail of scintillating fugitive or murdered poetry from the tv studio and police station. Your blog provokes me cause this has been my situation too and i go to college in orange county and i'd like to meet up with you so we can kiss and fuck


"here let me show you a hand of my favorite poetic trading cards - fwoosh - now suck my dick or i'll kill you. i bought these with rigor mortis and i've got ten thousand under my name all funneled to the gordian knot in my gut and i'll wrench you in there too"

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