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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

You've got to get in quick when hunting for bumpers. I walked all the way from where I am currently holed up, in "junkie central" (Maylands), to the local fire water dispensing hang out for escapist adventures of the ugliest variety, searching for discarded cigarette butts with tobacco remnants still attached, and only managed to return with two measly rollies worth of tobacco, one of which I ingested on the deflated walk back. Turns out that other similarly resourceful desparados had already cleaned up the hot spots before I could get to them. All that effort for such little reward, if you could even call inhaling smoke from recycled tobacco that. Dire poverty makes even the most slovenly of men become expert bumper scavengers, willing to tolerate the most unpleasant of weather conditions. Oh how the once mighty have fallen from grace, yet again. Moral of the story: think twice before you do anything kids, and then think once more.

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