SylviaSylvia’s not dead-I saw her,Just the other day.She was wearing Converse sneakersBut her eyes were made of clay.I asked her to say “rubber crotch”.She laughed inside my head.How can I say words you ninny,When I’m good and dead?But SylviaI pleaded,I’ve got that fever too,And I know it didn’t kill you,Cause that’s not what fevers do.See…

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