In my prosing portmanteau of leather,
Suited about my anatomy's bust,
Vestiges of images, my persona,
Persuasions of my alternative ego.
Master of The Squallin' Dervishes,
Portal of desire, chanting a cappella,
Fixation, avant-garde of my pulse,
Thumping echoes of throbbing lust.
Chimes of arousing endowments,
In the forest of the draping moss,
Braying to crescent moon lost,
Bequeath unto us her lolli' and consent.
Spread on the dais, standing wood,
Postulate in shadows of her maidenhood,
In haunts of my loll and lengths of tarry,
Initiation on St Andrew's Cross.
Drippings of the cock,
Caw of the cunt
And gall of my epitome,
In copulation, we thirst.
Choir of coven, chanting night psalms,
Of The Squallin' Dervishes
And hallelujahs of gathering slew,
Swirling of hallowing blew.
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