quinta-feira, 21 de fevereiro de 2013



In the immensity of the night I point Moon
and end up on the roof of your lips
me always feels bare
one kiss drive you wild

me runs as if on the tracks
I am the wind that cuts your wings
gift it to you with expensive corsets
we escape the confines from our homes

you almost escapes by a whisker
his attempt fails through a wire
I treat you as a lady and harlot
amordaço and kiss your lips to not hear a peep out

smudge her lipstick and her pale skin penalty
I am your master and you my slave girl
about my body feels saving
with my domain never gets annoyed.

Arthur Nett

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