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dry out the fibreglass

prepare your nan

can’t have two poets in the attic, it’s weird

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During a period of intense productivity

play darts

read Kant

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Night on the farm, blessed by

neon control

there half the year

avec plastic conscience and

sell-pork

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Those Stalinist future shotguns

travel in pairs

vicious and green

with a blurred understanding of breath control

Avoid

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