target practiceA Poem by Kett
curve metals split amateur logistics turn to spit whiter gathering ethereal push, harder reality point break limbs apart at summons joint midnight servitude holler filler shies a greater aptitude yet denies and rejects the might self-fulfilling sexual conquest alone in my bed, you retract your smile and all you’ve promised, said.
© 2009 Kett |
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Added on August 9, 2009 Author
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