© 2023 by MCLA Spires. 

April 25, 2019

At this point, all my covert movements are incontinent. I must’ve shoved the devil into that ruby-red habanero before I shucked the seeds, if you catch my blip. I garlic breathe onto the blueprints. I rhyme AMERICA with mise en scene. I put the bullet in bingo. All thi...

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