A sombre look
A sudden replacement of errotic gyration
Time up. No.
Rock me till death
Firm full lips
Eyes shut
Mw thought we guilty.
Guilty of uncontrolled devotion,
Commission to passion
What can we do to resist ourselves?
can the snail be separated from its snail? No !
Neither can the tortoise path ways with its bark
Where ever Igbin travels, its home follows it
I shoot my gun your net catches it 2/4
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