upon your shoes
that so soft as if
dreams of mice
weaved of and
spider thread dare
look powder like
who snow woos
and every glance
direction-wise
every view finds
too much bare
look much slower
than all whose
slid fingers slow
at costly price
under shirts are
left to care
look inside if
about what ruse
who around would
travel the thighs
rouse all slumber
with no wear
look closer as
must you choose
you allow to hold
who like vice
if nothing
nowhere will share
look what ever
the fate screws
the outcome of
which a surprise
who not without
appear fair
(mostly november the 26th)
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