Drown on all fours
Pennies from a box flood the frump market
Blasts of nacre, triage under weather’s speckled pool
The idée fixe never happens yet can’t be ignored
Still the moon is half full?
Speak for yourself with your hands up
The search is on
Search and destroy, if you will
Elimination starting with a lit fuse
Vacuumed anon
Your pleasure is the lee shore
Thunder smites the tundra’s paw
This should be memorable
Legs whited out
The runners advance
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