Local Asshole Now Local Asshole With Blog: The Twisted Brain Wrong of a One-Off Man-Mental
Nothing so dogged as the silent airwill come. Will come through tearsa running figure, stuck shadow on the bricksThe city’s dark and tastes of smoke, fireworksmay be gunshots and which ricochetlike sirens like neon grinning thru the rainoff wet road and bricks, finish too.A running figure, still shadow on the roof dogged against headlight squalls & windvanished at dawn. Will come in hoursWhen dark the streets are cold and taste of junk, takeouts. breathe suddenly between us the fissuring spokeNothing as dogged as the silent airrush quiet is permanent vanishes too.
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