WINE AND GATES

Offering The Mirror Wasn't, The Washing...

create a box
smile in it, thinking the rose
close it up, and administer a lock's
and make it a gift, for a tear to a lose...

the taste of youth's in the distance of culture
and the worth of a simple kiss, for the friends of persuasion
the kind of thing, to live up to, you were?
why not the fear of sincerity on the edges of perversion?

here is your ear, for a night of senses alive with exaction
the how and the newer kind, of toes of fortune and the think of ought
was a courage the only kind of secluded feelings for the daughter's of sion?
the pathway to anarchy is all and totaled for those that know, not...

penny in the box, magic for a sandy stare
the rose has become the knowledge of exasperated joy
with a remnancy for time in the worth we knew, the fight with charity...
is a lip of fascination with a rage to inure the coy

who cares, the squalor of vantages with a kiss of Sodom's hexing?
that salt, that fault if terror is...
the smile of notice in a charged offer to the irony wrecking
with a fist comes the naked reason for a single luster to wish...


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Offering The Mirror Wasn`t, The Washing...

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