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GRAEME FELTHAM
how can my quota be behind frosted glass when yours is transparent, with windows recently cleaned by 'cleaner than 'em' (for all the girls i've fucked before)

when the chips are down
and the ships have long gone
your loun
tcha tcha tcha
sweet suite
where you moaned so sweetly
us slipping through each other
you aspirating 'God Graeme, God Graeme'
your loun
tcha tcha tcha
sweet suite
where you moaned so sweetly
may be repossessed
by the downpresser man
but I only write the above
in an attempt, vain or otherwise
to try to understand
why I can't reach you
really communicate what it was that this is
which is not to say I don't see the preciousness in your eyes and your foibles
and while we're here
foibles are just that so why did you and why do you continue to insist on undercutting
my quota
it's a vain attempt
my quota
refuses to be undercut
my quota
is my ventilator
my quota
drills me
drills higher depths
my quota
is
my quota