She lies, curled beneath a shaddow, of shameless, shamefull deads, curbed by inhibiting rulings, from inhibited hermits, long buried, though, still alive... She soars, on the wings of passion, yet cringes on the verge, silent, tears mingling with sweat, pooling on the canvas, of permeating, seduction... Child, mother, motherchild of mine, shall we shed the chains of teaching, from teachers untaught, teachers untrained, teachers inhibited by teaching... Lie beneath me, breathe me, live me, let me fill you, reap you, sow you, let me lift you, change you, let me love you, for love is all, and all is what I want for you...
- Chris aka Necromancer aka Dark_Prince aka The_Spaniard
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