Swiftly with finesse in patent suit of leather I scribe.
My quill dashing across the darkness on lines in printed tomes.
The fetishes of my satisfactions my sexuality desired.
In my freelancing ways as a ghostwriter composer,
Many can't follow the journeys of the exhibitioner.
Being as I dwell within labyrinths of my creations.
Open pages on script of poetic proclivities,
On dreams I arrive in someone's nightly confessions.
Wishing for a nocturnal visit of the Sandman arriving.
As grains cascade down the hourglass obelisk,
My cock rises on the hour of my destination.
That of your statuette beauty and erotic seduction.
Given the lore of old gentlemen and tailors,
My leather unbinds from my maleness caressed.
Rising on the touch of the methadone- tick.
Cum rising in the quill of medium anatomy,
Dripping it's ink of obsidian ambrosia.
The exhibitioner begins his nightly renaissance.
Dancing on sand and pirouetting at two,
Fornicating on parchment my written fires.
The Sandman screws.
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