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Vanilla Moan

Electric eyes behold... A screaming piece of fluffy Shakespheare runs through my veins. Winter's cooling fingers from prizes refrains. Breath of Shakespheare in my lungs remains. Like a playful kitten frozen in mid-dance... He whispers his soft vanilla moan to the world... "Hold my Art in your hands, hark the gentle mating call."

Copyright © | Year Posted 2005




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Book: Shattered Sighs