YOU CAN MAKE ME BOXING
Wearing this Winter coat again has strangled my
neck-nerves. I hate it so. I'd rather freeze in the end-zone
alive. The wind tries tickling my inner savage; but I'd
much rather just live in this box. The policeman comes
walking over - I already know his deal - 'you can't stay
here tonight, the shelter bus is over on the corner. Get on
it.' Man, how I hate all that. Bad coffee twice, and a donut.
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