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Monday, May 14, 2012


shiftin threw space on derelict crime spree
minor signs realign spines
reminiscent of an immature rhyme scheme
i fiend...for open sores
& old bottles full of
saleenez...pace cars...motor engine type screams
only time I find peace
is at the bottom of a silk screen
only time I find speech
I'm at the bottom of my souls reach
strung out on D.O.C's
losing friends consistently
constantley seeking complacencency
it seems

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