Held in-evocative illusion. One, is enough.
A paper and design-less moments. Fulfilled, by one
Vanity. I enjoy it. I like it. Am proud to deny.
Those ever-changing possibilities, prostitude
I am alley, and anger only for a period.
Then, evoke, a musical murder, choir.
and chamber brasselets. Tie.
In a throat, for her kisses shall...
go undone. Freely she goes, sweetly