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Replying to a comment on:
The parameters of speech. (Free verse) by leon lyman Within
a sorted letter fencing spins
a whirlwind from the lungs -
bit into by two rows of teeth,
suck stuck between two lips, a sheath
for moisturised Berettas cocking
cartridges on tongues.
Drool that only ever drips,
a sick dog off its muzzle,
Each sentence is a clue and
every paragraph a puzzle.
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