My soul knows what makes the Sandman tock.
Raising my cock on the tick of a clock,
Poetically swaying the pen to scribe chills.
Lustful goes my sensuality upon parchment steaming.
Luring eyes to chapters of copulations and darkness,
As grains cascade through the hourglass like cum.
Pleasures bountiful in one's boudoir keep,
Casting my shadow on one's mirrored wall.
The aura and musk of the Sandman calls.
Like clouds of prose my embodiment drifts,
Between words and prologue to your clitoris pearl.
The mystical penis of your womanhood I seek.
Etching on lines in my nightly journal of seductions,
My quill drips the essence of your moist ambrosia.
Your labia dancing on my thirsting prowess.
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