Erotica Done Right 18+!!! REDUX
adagio said:My mind bellows a litany of dark verse
Deep abyss of arid pale blue eyes
With a ganglion cyst of my curse
Luring the darkness of sins
Bleeding pox, mummies of my kind
As my lips defind your glory
Leaving prints on the papyrus
With antiquity of my prowess
Wandering in my own hell
Cold, the night, with infinite craving
Sucking blood of all faiths and infidels
In shadows of tomorrow
My mind bellows a litany of dark verse
Deep abyss of arid pale blue eyes
Adageeeeoooo
Adagio
Your niche you have created smolders you have forged your own path with the embers
You set this place on fire
Deep abyss of arid pale blue eyes
With a ganglion cyst of my curse
Luring the darkness of sins
Bleeding pox, mummies of my kind
As my lips defind your glory
Leaving prints on the papyrus
With antiquity of my prowess
Wandering in my own hell
Cold, the night, with infinite craving
Sucking blood of all faiths and infidels
In shadows of tomorrow
My mind bellows a litany of dark verse
Deep abyss of arid pale blue eyes
Adageeeeoooo
Adagio
Your niche you have created smolders you have forged your own path with the embers
You set this place on fire
Anonymous
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Anonymous
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Anonymous
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With wind gust from a calliope, and autumn's darkening oak,
fanning night with the gong, of twilight's gleaming scapel,
a path of pale, stale as a devil's ale, with cotton candy,
and cracked peanuts.
Trailing her veil over cobblestones and death's halitosis,
from her chest of gothic red blood, and dried bones,
as fog drips, clotting on my tongue of a rigor's carousel,
of "auld lang syne."
Inhaling scent of decaying menses, in a carnival's mortuary,
as my fingers slip beneath her garter of my intoxication,
sniffing with my worming proboscis, of a winged moustache,
fanning night with the gong, of twilight's gleaming scapel.
fanning night with the gong, of twilight's gleaming scapel,
a path of pale, stale as a devil's ale, with cotton candy,
and cracked peanuts.
Trailing her veil over cobblestones and death's halitosis,
from her chest of gothic red blood, and dried bones,
as fog drips, clotting on my tongue of a rigor's carousel,
of "auld lang syne."
Inhaling scent of decaying menses, in a carnival's mortuary,
as my fingers slip beneath her garter of my intoxication,
sniffing with my worming proboscis, of a winged moustache,
fanning night with the gong, of twilight's gleaming scapel.
