foul people forever and the mind is riddled
inch worms bowing their backs as they crawl the craters
to think I used to be elated
Timmy kissing a picture of his bastard baby
mystery money siphoning
acres of skin have been harrowed with Tim's wanderings
whole herds of him have been pasturing in row houses
an argument and round shot-put-like people bellowing at their children
in a yard six feet from the street
mongrel at their feet
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