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To Cari Oleskewicz's previous piece
Incapable What is loneliness to a demon? This angel of yours spilling confessions like a scent from rosy lips which are your chains. When she slides over you like a serpent of temptation and wisdom, to whom do you whisper your prayers? Moving, creeping, taking you over. A dance that she knows, and only for you. A dance that she created, and before you existed. With weapons of flesh, a tongue of destruction. And you, the warrior. You, the conqueror. Ignorant hero of a war all your own. Look at her Watch her Desire her, this demon. This angel of yours. Consume her. Take her. Claim her, this angel of yours. So certain and confident. The warrior. The conqueror. And see her laugh. See her cackle with her head thrown back at this terrible shame.
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