Saturday, June 6, 2009

A cotton ball in a blizzard of mischief.

With a thought that rode on the bus and came for conjugal visits. 

 Stayed chattering and nagging.

Reserved the right as the triggerman.

Answer the question; yes - the city wants you gone. 

I'm throwing down the gauntlet, fuck you this isn't your decision.

 For whatever you imagine poetry and justice feels like when you combine them.

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