Your lines of words flail like snakes, like the seductive allure of Medusa.
A stoic seduction you give with intent by a false sense as my savior.
A continual algorithm to femicide is the finality of your own deception.
How many times have you woven a self crafted game designed to fulfill your own needs and claim yourself as my ruler?
I seek the pillars of life to crush your crown; graven in stone your faded reflection to be jaded within the norm of what is written in your own helm of invisibility.
I have spread my legs long enough to the fulfilment of another's conclusion.
A Rosetta stone in plain sight of the predictability of my words.
If fornication is your only attribute to lay within the divine; craft yourself another game as I excuse myself from play.