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Tags: erotic
Chilling words of dark lust,
The prowess of the phallus
And the wacky-wick prick.
Smiling in my midnight lust. 

In conclave of my epitome, 
Behind my sanity I forestall,
Public opinions of my profession.
Jacking-off curses.

Silence of my poetic scribbling,
Writing on moonlit hour. 
Shadows on the whispering walls, 
Suffering from lack of sleep.

Carved of mahogany the pen scrolls, 
Cascading, copulation prose.
Swilling in my comprehension, 
Buttered rum in my cup of tin.

Like musings of my whispers,
Fliers of erotic seekers,
The fornicators' of the quill 
And the wacky-wick prick.

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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