Nomads Of Doom
Howling. Screaming. "Nomads of doom beneath a sepia shadow, conjugating flesh."
A toll of bells rung, as I whispered a new line to a soon play script. I masturbated with my thoughts. As my phallus prowess balked with its temper of heat, my eyes rolled back.
Often titillated in fields of dreams while inhaling the opium that I'm so fond of, with arousing sexual amnesia spinning in my head.
A thespian and scholar of the intelligentsia and considered a dandy among my peers, following in the footsteps of playwrights before me. I was also a social chameleon and could blend in among the citizenry, taking on many personalities.
A bastard's child, conceived by a scullery witch who paid me little of her attention. I became adept at picking pockets as my father taught me the trade. Being small in stature
I swept the chimneys as a young rapscallion. Often as not absconding with the domicile's sterling ware to pawn.
Becoming arrogant by nature, I picked fights, and on occasions, I whored myself out as a young male harlot. I picked a fine time to play it by ear as the pimps tried to have it both ways