Friday, November 18, 2011

The Delicates of Thy Night...

Her faces of pleasure still haunt me
    The brush of her bone cloak permit me secrets
When she sat high with head to heaven
    And mind in paradise
She takes me back to the womb, the true Eden
    Alive and well, in all women!
Infinite like the projections of insanity
    Or all the worlds graves creating one big void

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