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Daily Archives: May 11, 2012
they’re coming to take her away these little tiny toasters raging against protagonistic promises; leaving behind a trail of rye crumbs burned thumbs and the lingering scent of blueberry Pop-Tart. .
(a Fib) She sits shrouded in this dark -ness. Heart drums in ears skin sounds the alarm, rises as she falls, trying to decipher her own Brailled flesh. .