[ knit onion rings]A Poem by winter;lyra
knit onion rings
my briefly wed vampires transpire into my night trades say, did you extract his bile? that which is essential for the concotion which is superterrestrial in all notions, poison, distortion in the skin, corrosion, sexually potent that risen vice my written rites expired when that pen fell mute no dispute he set foot and put cues it was she, the muse that laid bloody stakes through his ribcage © 2022 winter;lyra |
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