and all their cities,
burning dilapidates ,
on the skin of a fruit.
Damn, the Black Irises,
the ship that built
Empire, despair, despair.
Holy, until necessary.
Hold me, hold me.
The dragon queen,
silk serpent, panting,
to the rich smell
of the whiskey breathe,
more, more, more.
Her heart in the hands
of a floozy.
Dame, sugared upon rising,
split lips, cigarettes,
the men dashing.
Oh, the honor,
of the victory!
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