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Slapdash Thursday Open Thread

  Show's over, folks. Nothin' to see here. Don't touch my toys.  (Say hello.)

Saturday, May 8, 2021

He's got fasting black lungs made of clove-splintered shards. They're the kind that will talk through a wheezing of coughs.

                    I hear him every night, in every pore. And every time he just makes me warm
 

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