Sick Love Distraction

I want your stock, bulk and muscular cubes in my beef stew.
I want your weathered gray eyes to add milk to my coffee.
I want your inhalations to wake me at bed and breakfast.
I want your tiny fangs to make me immortal to your touch.

I want the animated beastly aura to ravage me savagely pink in unorthodox pleasure.
I want the sex to your rapist kingdom until my thumbs go down and my cervix breaks out in cold fret.
I want the cot of your hairs to marinate me with its sweat until I’m drenched as you my Dear wake me up DEAD!
I want long conversations to uncover strong manifestations on the writing portfolio of your wits.

I want the best of both worlds with memories that’ll friend us midday and tempt us in evening to be enemies the day after.  I want nothing more than to be the steroid you absorb from your pump to calm the storms of your wheezes that are



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