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Monthly Archives: November 2013

I begin with a tap on the glass, and I like instant views of how your clothes are fitting lately, but I preserve this enraging monotone way of feigned resistance against charity, and I trust her, while I hope for newer causation, but I shuffle through alternate versions of this madness, and I bolster to nobody regarding the last encounter, though guitars wake me, and I place her flavor in a vaulted suggestion, but I indulge with neighborly caveats, and I arrange her like a doll while she terrorizes my privacy like a surgeon, and I mentor those reckless tendencies within polite offerings, but I ask where they hide when the psychological scaffolding commits mutiny, but I yearn for her undeniable residues, and I lecture about early baroque architecture to planes flying overhead, though I wish often, and I refurbish glitches in their campaign, but I invent metaphors using administrative jargon and pornographic search engine results, yet I forgot my number.

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