He sits in his hollowed-out room and writes like any maniac can ’til turning the whole damn thing on its haphazard ass all over again
This warlord pen is soaked in crazy kinds of bliss even if his particular pock-marked face has yet to know it – everything stowed precariously so
His beloved albeit equally frenzied girlfriend will sow in complete unison a little further on over whilst he undoubtedly gets to breathe the absolute right kind of seed
Some will say poison
Gritting his yellowed teeth, cigarette teetering, forever withering nearby, he uses these punctuated chains to see it, every last bit

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