Deliver among theives the pursestrings of a cautious misanthrope. Could the vine of the Minotaur seek the covenant gaze of Aesope? Or, the venal tenure of savage cries blistering as an eyesore in the snail shell of a salted wound? This basilisk of incense burns through a beaded mountain and suffocates upon the leather teats aching with teeth marks of wine, a baccanale of white foam and pink hoofprints, narcotic smoke.
~S~
~S~
toolgirl:
Hello new friend!
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