I, my best friend, silence I spend,
In dark corners I comprehend,
Whispering to my shadow's mime.
Tales chilling, dripping of ink,
Like cracking of the ice,
Hearing the tempest masturbate.
Stumbling lines like on stones,
Frozen eeriness of my soul,
Echoes howling, my fucking lust.
Forsaken me my lack of sleep,
Cobwebs in crevices of my eyes,
No sympathy do I receive.
My mind follows erotic paths,
Ejaculating prose and semen
for long legged women.
Kingdom come, all forgiven,
On others that say I'm mad.
Laughing, I spat.
Scenting musk of dark pleasures,
Gesturing with my swollen prick.
Sucking on bosom's hard tits.
In time of the morning's cum,
My awakening head nods.
Tales chilling, dripping of my ink.
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