May 23, 2005 23:59
One was lost
(a bastard son)
And in spite of toil
[impatient potence]
A simply wrought
{too soon! too soon!}
Oh, how he had a sister
kind with age
and awaiting to be spilt;
past the lips
across the tongue
a stain of extra virgin-
to drink the fools 'till they was drunk.
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::disapointed look::
syke. you know i love you.
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