Rote Poem by chris bowen, a.k.a to wit

Rote



rote.rote you a letter and bet her.she was wetter than the first letter.get heather and go after methers.see the others for what their worth, a birth of pain through the over rang.dang tooth, must be my youth comin in and winning sensation sends the men scurrying.george bush hurry, finish, for i am in.

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chris bowen, a.k.a to wit

chris bowen, a.k.a to wit

fernanadina a.k.a ghost town
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