Swizzling quill the joust of my writing stick,
Often stirring intoxication of eerie inebriations.
Like thawing ice my composing drips.
Frost of the dusk dew chilling my prose.
With lackluster haunts I compose,
Tales of dark erotica.
Whimsical quotations of my baroque ego
And renaissance of the ivy tower askew,
Swirling steps up the obelisk.
Etching drawings with dying embers,
Tales of a maiden looming seductions
And confessions of a protagonist lusting.
Breasts of majestic mountains high,
Nourishing my hungering thirst.
Fountains peaked, creating my rising.
Through shadows of my hearkening gyrations,
Scribing stanzas and masturbation lurking
Like a jester miming copulation's quest.
On patterns of quilt she rest her austere.
Beguiled, bewitched...my penis twitched.
Swizzling quill the joust of my writing stick.
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