Clouded with deceit my eyes are glazed,
Walking through this forest of the sexed,
I fall upon a sultry ground,
not dirt, but the sweet touch of liquid silk,
...
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The Italian side of you speaking, dear friend? Wonderful piece. The confusion very evident, but as you get older you'll find that things that's bothering you now, doesn't really matter. The other side of the looking-glass. Your poems always leaves a lingering feeling...
Managing the lustful aspect of humans with such a natural art in your write..Crimson, you're blessed with an exceptional talent..no on can escape being intrigued..