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A RAINBOW KISS



		Heaved up over the dead extra-solemn	
gnat at her stashed 
			day
	break's end on her 
rifer diet of, say, (approx.) a mode set of pretty flinchless 
            ups and downs smacked
into a glad adherence, alle
grissimo, a drawn-out twitch; you part
	person part colour
code grayed 
			into her guess 
	and yours, in glareless mothlight.  By no means
shaping a pact, and not repressed.  Glutted.  Each day gags
ring, thunderous.  Big Trouble in Little China.  I can barely sleep or I sleep in
	her best hell's charade, to win each way.  Downs
says about fairly, I'd 
			say or thereabouts just
	what's meant, help me out here maybe it's a glister in
surance return, falling (down) and fondling her tendered 
		fear in the shades
of brilliance she pervades through soap reflux.    





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