Sexually empowered monster head. Leaning into the cold creeps. Edamame eyes. Nuclear radiance open heart perjury in the fluttery aftermath; I’m tired for sound. Skull and fork, no joke, the voodoo candle is a parody of real light. Makes me want to put a hat on my hat and slide guitar. Pigeon-toed crooner, prophylaxis, a red hawk tries to eat the bad reason. A bottlebrush flower in the ear of my surplus solitude. I spill out of you as a serious idea inside a wrinkled plum. Tourniquette!
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