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Tags: erotic
Precarious I am not wrought,
With prose of unstableness.
For I scribe words of praise,
As the Sandman enlisting mortals.

Seeking those of parallel I scribe,
Without oblivion I am darkness.
In quest of those equal in thought,
Uncaring of public opinions. 

Composing on shoestrings taunt,
Across my sane soul of leather,
My erotica is sensuality.
Not porn of kingdom lost.

Keeper of the key and lamplighter, 
I not be qualified for priesthood 
Within the inner circle of darkness,
We hark to minions of our peers. 

Etching of lust and sojourns quest,
Scribbling arousals in tall gables.
As spirits of musings caress,
Uncaring of public opinions.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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