M a r k D u C h a r m e
You're not really caught. Music rattled the schoolyards. Was it simpering?
The historic scene fell through. Though many of our finest CEO's would
rumble. Strangled, in the predicament. Music rattled the schoolyards.
All day I am escaping. This is unusual, really. At best, there were these
cursive salvos. Strangled in the predicament.
The ash heap kind of rocked. A fortune in uncanceled postage. For what
was said, or almost swaying. At best, there were these cursive salvos.
Scuds were foaming at the plumes. & I was canceled, filling up the air.
Would the wicked carnival man disapprove? The ash heap stirred in one
continuous noise as if noon were still escaping.
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