Liquid Blood Lunch
September 23, 2011, by Homme de Sept-Îles
cave in your smoke jets char the land strafe the soil roiled ruined red royal in your nothing hand red beetle prints scuttle vapour dice your insect thunder pigs magpies scuttlers snorfers sausage fingers trembling for lunches map wing through gossamer wings we see him in the corridor send him home to be bludgeoned again mis integrate un integrate de integrate pounds of silver light set fire
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