I have walked through the deserts of a full range of emotion burning
hot and frostbite cold with a cheche to protect the face
that bears all evidence of the exquisite consuming facets
the human condition invocations of ink stained hands
writing to decipher nights of discourse and passion
the mingling of pleasure and blood thoughts and action
dream scapes like a place down the road, there but very quiet
like the abandoned one room shack in the background of
love and magic and Paris and music or some mixture thereof
the elixir of merging lanes like veins of eternal variation
the highs and lows from being in a lover's arms to being
strangled by the same hand some other worlds meaning
lovely words to speak of hatred and hypothermia tongues
to speak of ardor admiration sometimes
its affliction that reveals what sweet smooth smiles simply can't
torment temptation night sweats the dark cool pools
in the back bends tend to swell and flux with the lucre
of pirate gold a heart to satiate the romantic
though criminal it may be I could care for the crooked
for I am no proper royal, no ruler straight for judgement
so in the final days, I will know and I will tell you Bastard,
I love you
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