Asterisk to the spider’s eager pageant, Jesus waits at three doors for his father to get out of surgery. Cops put in handcuffs an unshocked boy and lead him to a room made of rooms. Ask for the mother of anyone. Ask the cops for our love back. Our love of how they are captured dying on an earth of runaways. I drank in the dream then drank in the dream I was having. At least cursive looks like eating. Cough, wrist. Angel, burn your way through the keyboard of touch. I did no singing in this world.
kingsoftrain 
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