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So often I inhale your cathartic cocktail; it swoons me from my study, my brain trails. Homogeneous with my velvet red intertwines, all else hails. All exhales whisper, loftily, a separate tale. Your embers are like no other; they glow of yesteryear and retract into the present. The warmth and the darkness, you segment. Each draw, intoxicating, one after another. Like a con artist you remain vague, and disappear; any remaining inflection sails beyond the oculus; presence constant, but hueless. Those unacquainted always sneer. Knowing not, your gift is of the most diverse; but, in the end, like all else, your essence is a curse.
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Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
Sweet Succubus
So often I inhale your cathartic cocktail; it swoons me from my study, my brain trails. Homogeneous with my velvet red intertwines, all else hails. All exhales whisper, loftily, a separate tale. Your embers are like no other; they glow of yesteryear and retract into the present. The warmth and the darkness, you segment. Each draw, intoxicating, one after another. Like a con artist you remain vague, and disappear; any remaining inflection sails beyond the oculus; presence constant, but hueless. Those unacquainted always sneer. Knowing not, your gift is of the most diverse; but, in the end, like all else, your essence is a curse.
MichaelWalker
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Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
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