Love Child
One Love
You will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow
You can hear the whistle blow
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Now I want to write all trashy instead of all wishy washy with super sharp barbs buried in the rinse cycle. That would be like dating some guy named Michael. Well, not really, even though there is an Island named Pele(Peally) twenty minutes by ferry from Kelly's in Lake Erie.
OMG! I entered like 127 poems over at poetry.com in the last 6 weeks. My repertoire was depleated in 3 weeks. I was squeezing stuff from, MY BOOK OF SHIT. The last thirty things I wrote, were BRAND NEW.
I fucking feel like Morgan Freeman has jammed a gun in my ear and said, " Now I want you to shoot the wings off that fly!" I fucking shot the wings off the fly. It's like those design competitions they have on E, or Lifetime. Okay Loktar, you have imunity this week. Well, I Love Cunt, what, pray tell was in yOUR head, Mirrah's litter box? Neon. Okay You are SAFE, but not for long.
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