Pyroclastic Flow
J
James McLain
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Like the sun I rise and exercise.
Meditation comes from some far away juicy jucie.
Enemas.
The rusty warm brown bottle.
My grandmother had.
At leisure strown about rubber gloves.
Before I begin the massage.
I must think about the mess from the day before.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş