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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