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. On the inside bottom down I sound
. like grumbling fog through alley?s dark
. and puddle rain. Back seat vinyl,
. chocolate melting, finger licking,
. buttons popping. Sounding deeper
. still and down, the sounds of
. shiny, champagne glasses, sugared
. crystal lemons squeezing.
. Sounds like jars and bowls
. of gold bells blowing, tall grass
. shooshing, pretty April breezes.
. Chanting mystic melodies,
. empty pockets yawning, snowflakes
. sifting new night snow.
. From underbelly inward down you sound
. like church pews bumping uglies,
. screaming dogs in big, red barns.
. Croupy coughing, bonnet stamping
. noises know you, do you.
. Come down sounds of back wood splitting,
. gavel cracking, corn field booking. Your innards
. sound like anthem belching, tires squealing,
. greased pig callin? good ol? boys.
. And drinking down sound even deeper
. than you dare,
. the daily dirge of door nails dying
. very slow deliberate deaths.
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