iqmagi

How soft the pattering lisp of green eyes and pale skin
yawning beneath this yellow orchid of morning. And dote upon the ocean's rose that hangs in crested waves of silver shores repeating the echo that hovers in the seventh circle of abandon. And how cruel this lover, brandishing the very air for ransom! And at what insipid price, lifted as an ash toying the rain to bleed all fortitude and tamarind to the Neptune of gray dissolution. But this charge shall not wince, nor tarry to refrain these precotious subtleties, glorious exaltation; ergo the formulary beget in the shoulder wherein the frankincense and dragons flower within the frightening smile of my muse.

~S~

xoxo