Drop a driblet, sip the poise
Grow in molded precipitation
Here, placid wisps mute whispers
Of craving blatant coitus
Feel em grow, tendrils tickling
Waking pains, ticking talks
Conciliation, beats lie in
Strangulation, a fine life
Bow tied arms, skeletal ties
Choke in insulated ambiance
Dear, placid wisps speak whispers
How they ostracize rotten needs
Sunday, May 3, 2009
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