I'll elaborate, short by minuscule and small,
by tiny features'll done be with them all.
Dry, deserted, thirst-inducing abovefrom wasteland.
No more green roads and paths flourish from yer any ***.
Frail and begotten;
O' lad, yer sighing's as worthless and gross as a mother's kiss,
ye'r 'airles, ye worth time of mine is not,
for yer being's every trace's bayn relentlessly torne!
Won't comb nor feel a dread of pulling a single strand off;
not one twirl and loop make a cringe,
nor does one two-finger pull draw any curve at all.
Girlbornlack.
Heartdriven dame, longed for mayl's lifelung...
...long not it was nor took
for the heartnearing to be deemed devolved:
Rosed, delicate, brutally impetuous thrusts
of lips went on, hard as stone,
hit her lovely brown face
and finished her with a kick;
a crashing kiss, that's what it was.
T'was cute; long and warm, tongue involved.
T'was thick and drooling, her bright-red lipstick.
