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The Last Words of T.F.D. Bot, the Final Poem

I reserve the right of choice/I reserve the right time/and the skull of course/the fuses blow all of her supplies/accoutrements, etc./ Many moons ago, I was not/traumatized. 11. I am sure that I hope I/ can scroll, and they stick me with their/viewing. Books are very, very fun/clothes exchanges/Playing the whole box, fresh from her…

T.F.D. Bot Speaks in Circles

This poem is originally written in a spiral, as seen in the photo above. Well, the descending bone; the black Angus do this. They said, only with some Facebooking, switch sides of Bikram Yoga. I reserve the hemlock flower! Myrtle and jessamine for a f**k. We would be the mightiest goal; yet, of my computer…