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Curb Stomped

Cancer floats out from the particles clogging the holes to sunny days. Oh its been days since I had to breath. Won't you give me the air hose. Give me some tape for my specialty to ego up my bleeding heart. Cover my hole, kill my dirty maggots, eat my cliche. Overtly coming up to death waking zooming up to the blue blurring lines facing a way off of this dead rise of corpses. Into the out of insert here to come out the other side outside the inside of jelly coated germs coated in leather smoking camel straws. Melt my face out and forward to the pin point of fight left out in the light of spotless wet gleams. Rape the grapes and do it now so that it can take root and explode down into fertile sound when introduced. Not so fast cause it can't last the abuse.
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