Chilling Of The Bones
With serpent's eyes, I hear clearly,
Discernibly of the naïve,
Chilling of the bones,
Tweeting in cold nest.
Darkness, I sway my bleariness,
With my pen I jingle obsidian,
On pages of everlasting words,
Copulations and connotations.
On rising of my cock's mast,
Praising the cunt is my forte.
In the north forty of half awake,
Streaming ink in my insomnia.
Raw senses of my proclivities,
Swilling intoxication of my lust,
Ravaging flesh with kisses,
Walking softly with my prick.
In truth, words don't exaggerate,
Sprint of my darkening sway,
Misbehavior's of my fornications.
Chilling of the bones.
Juices, I suck flowing passion,
Kisses of the clit so sweet,
The chalice of overflowing vulva,
Beneath the cover of my tomes.
Salutations of spewing ooze,
Erotic tales on wet pages,
Of nakedness and ebony soul.
With serpent's eyes, I hear clearly.
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