Day 90 (Rupert Murdoch goes fox hunting and fails to see any irony)

Liquid is my lust
Floating through each feeble finger of my clenched fist
Dripping to the steel forge
Tissue to scar
The burning
Yearning desire to wallow in your mire
But you keep distance
Prolong the chase
And without one lick I developed a taste
Pound soft flesh
Destroy desire
But simple fire licks
And wisps in visions corner
Driving over cliffs of madness
To pits of despair
Floating to the sky
On the wings of an unsaid promise
The faint feeling of something more with knowledge of nothing
Body's subtle whisper
Is not audible to the human ear
Pound soft flesh
Destroy desire
Sweet steel kiss me hard

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