it was so unbright yesternight in the closed nook of a pale painted swinging
swung tight, tightly swinging, quickly singing, breath of fast hair
from the timid article of light uncorking from thy precious bowl:
your remarkably hips. i quipped a sonnet on the marble jelly of your
cresting gluttonous *******; with my hands between the stocky virulent
oaks of your frail gently thighs. and your eyes were scorching, and the
breadth of hours tumbled open and wee