So fleeting are all conversations
as interrupted intercourse,
there is only an empty plate left
but mine is still filled
with all delicacies and refineries.
For there's a thousand ideas
on how to arrange it
which was never spoken of
but the bimbo slips
away for she can't handle it.
Because you have to think
twice to the thrice,
when the sequence shifts
then for a trigger
the demon flees its shade.
To put effort into relations
is thus a waste
they are only by-products
and then discarded
as fashion for a whore.
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