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Ponies

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The ponies don't like it when you move
the smoke. Carefully so you don't wake
the trees. Those ponies are vicious
man. You don't want to mess with them.
Those trees have been smoking
some serious dope. I'm starting to see
things. Just yesterday, I upgraded
my sun to 390 terauniverses of
googlememory. With their teeth
and their claws and they surround
you and you can't get away,
and you have to fight back, fight,
fight back so hard. Their manes
are just getting good in the back
too. The maid came yesterday. I'm not
sure if cleaning the bed was justified
afterwards. Or before? There were tiny
lights all over the place. All under the
sheets... and over them too. I'm advocating
dark clothes. The paranoiacs liked it dark,
for without it, they'd have to find normal
meaning to cows. The bovines never set
on the sun. With the due diligence of
impatience, the sane will never redeem
their poker chips. Even for all the
pennies you spent buying the clouds,
the color of evening's pain never rested.
Created by metacode
Last modified 2005-07-13 08:50 AM
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