it is difficult to scrub sin out of the bathroom walls
like a purple haze of a oxymoron coward-ing
crippled beneath the weight of a shower-head
take it from me, you do not want to visit this town.
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I hear blackbirds like to sing. I like to sing too. I do it mostly in my sleep. It is quite remarkable. I dream in symphony. I am a muscial instrument. When I hug, I harmonize. Sing with me.
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