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| Before the naked cock crows the sleeper awakes out of his dream, the truth is heavy on his mind but his thoughts slowly disappear. Grumbling against the time that grows out of his soul solemn pictures of a long legged devils swan. In a broken dream he digs between the breasts of a bust. He smells peanut butter of an on-manipulated conversation. I understand Leda she creates my thoughts. | Genre: Surrealism |
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