i would give you more than just a blow rose in flaccid muscles. you fall asleep, just in your corner, abandoned to night perpetration. i draw your impossible face in letter and i know you are angry with my silly expression in the mirror. i feel your cold breath in my neck. slowly to devour my bloodness heart. gently incise in my affliction with your silverware. i touch my ankle and i offer in the kiss (impossible to give you) my venom. it is open in the walls marked with hieroglyphs pearls and enigmatic petals: with pleasure i delineate with my teeth-trait upon your skin. the real blazon printed in your dulcet surface. I do not want this rough policies. the chaser ermine surrenders to the guillotine. hangman’s hands. but, i break my torment, as print, still life.
I'm sitting, nude, front, with large open windows, with wind whispering secret and banned words. it profanes my flesh (and i still think about you, my shining star) and some dream butterflies and shooting star courtains draws me. i, among fading violets, declare, more, even, i want you.
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