As a whore lies, in bed waiting secretly to be lustfully pleasured.
She denies her ties, or is it lies ? Still, she spreads her wings.
Called legs, and secretes her satisfaction slowly. Her vagina.
Exist, to fill her heart. And empty his life. For all could be said.
Yet matters do not, convey. Do not convey. Sorrowfully I sin. Weakly.
I bow and long, for a power long gone. Missing or Murdered ? I don't know.
My life is fragile and I am not longer. Presently, available. Shells.
All around me, their warm misfortune, seen only in omlettes. Or teeths.
No nurturing non-sense. I see. I panicked and saw, her nakedness.
No, visibly or skin. Just, a sprint. Without a home, a body, wondering.
About, searching for home. Where ? Shall I run ? Painful points.
I am worthless, in words. For visions of vanity ahve perfected the arch.
Of over-reaching sanity. And little love. Prey. For a prayer.
In lust or sinfully commited nor omitted las long. I dance and see.
Her warm kisses, to damnation is worth it. Kisses. Come sought and warm...