The Cat of Democracy Died the Day I was Born. And it dies still every minute I live
My mind is like an un-massaged muscle. It attracts the hands of every eager massuse, with oily anticipation. Your compliments gird me in pink, and parade me around the city.
I give, I give, I give.
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2 comments:
Your comliments dress in me in plaid leather pants, and make me dance apon the marquee.
...er Thanks Cori!
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