esgrdhtfjykuliA Poem by brianna vegatorn idle fingers rip at whatever is available unable to sit still i leave trails and piles of debris on the floor behind me sometimes i toss it up like confetti when rich i roll it up and smoke it. © 2012 brianna vega |
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1 Review Added on October 23, 2012 Last Updated on October 23, 2012 Authorbrianna vegacity of lost angels, CAAboutThings have changed like the singing of rain Once soft Now pouring Soaking Softening Changing more.. |

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