Clowns and urchins. It all gets very passe.
The personas? Made of clay and paper mache.
Lets all pitch an intertent and roast slowly.
Grow slowly. Progressively lurch so intermittent.
Check out my dismissive. It's of a higher level,
so something to be proud of.
Life used to be porch lit. Stand alone prose kits.
Watch the ethernets kill orchids.
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If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where immobil steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back road stop
Could you find me?
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