A collection of arms, barricaded into a fallacy. Enter into my bathroom whorehouse baby.
    What's your creed? What's your religion?
    I'll resolute impure indifferences.
    Come in one more time!
    My neck is bruised and scarred.
    A room of pleasure, a time of lust.
    I'll make you wet, you feel intoxicated.
    You lick the saturated stem -- on top of the world. What a rush . . ., honestly the most sinister plot.
    Amount of love never applied.
    I crawl to a nearby hole hidden.
    Only to discover unworthy riches found in I.
    Sorry I never embellished your frame --
    I'll trap you in the box of sin . . .
    . . . relinquish a sediment only found in a seed. Watch it fertilize.
    I see my own eyes --
    Me in a mirror, a newborn soul.
    Me, in my hour of death,
    Me, in my dying time of ecstasy.
    Me, lost in an unknown decade . . .





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