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March 26, 2013
Filling it out, and you got me, I got you, our stuff is clogging the radio airs...tipping off the obvious circuitry, you might say we grabbed at the art of confusion real sweet with clarity of our kisses radiating down the metronome flesh climbing up its tempestuous rhythms that may not deliver as well as expected, though the searching mind glommed on its squishy electricals seething in the fretted secrecy you might wish when the heat gets so, the orbiting town mind would send its devilment to the movie house where we enjoy sex the most, thrusting between frames.