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Gross My Verbs

Tags: macabre, dark

Gross of my verbs like hump-back crows. Dark my philosophy of thundering words, through the soot of Rotterdam. Like the twilight with the mange. Regurgitating my sins with Ouija's omens. Listening to lords of my gothic Parchisi. Rolling the dice of my iniquity. In the hedgerows of my immortality over the paling dells of gobshites. Removing the hearts of stone. Swallowing death of defiled flesh. Koshered from the womb from the book of Deuteronomy. Gross of my verbs like hump-back crows. Through the soot of Rotterdam, swimming with fish.

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