(frm:    the Loss Lieder)

you need a dawn at fakery implosion set to plinth
all fittings in the there slam german cross railroaded &
break him on a steering wheel, hemp flit around or to bulldoze
riddled at our fabric, alley curbed at the one
cluster hash will bomb a nearer escape button
clause is weaponize ambit swath
ask, where you goin with that thing?
drive right off the road with shrugging
you don’t gotta correct spiteful jerks, just a mildly
apoplectic gang that wanders incinerating boardwalks
hop scotch or gin faith goes blink flick;
what’s crossed out is especially useable:  a deadbolt
hit by a thunderbolt ....  nippy out here!
asks that overcast logo manager;
shot under drive bye-bye calculation by
the doppelgangbangers,  actual seams in the
underlying reality?  or just in re-alterity?
they’ve got automated wake-up calls to
nudge me at the banister into wishy-washy mishmash up
or possibly across  ... it’s a brain-teaser
or maybe a mock-up for drifting thru not-here

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