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exquisite sinner
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whole lotta other stuff Lights are alive in both of the in-betweens of molten glass flow onto serrated edges in red-hot dreams…
I am having a relation loving torrid with a woman of liquid gold.
Through cherry scented foggy smoke, I attend.
You want it in morning when the shadows of night chase velvet mystery towards understanding.
It renders the pestilence that I wish for the living…
The rap trap has sped up against inferior gifts from the dead.
Nothing calms me to sleep how much rhythm in my heart will nestle in an acacia’s guilty defect.
I would have to fall to both my knees and softly slip it in my mouth.
Ferociously my protégée words are as if they own my chaos.
My heart and soul separated from salvation, the characters disposed symbols in the ether.
They are the ruminations of me.
I am the exquisite sinner in red-hot dreams.
