Pedalling through the dark currents
I find an accurate copy
A blue print
Of the pleasure in me
Swirling black liles totally ripe
He offers a handshake
Crooked five fingers
Form a pattern
Yet to be matched
Swirling black liles totally ripe
Morsecoding signals
Pulsate
Wake me up
From hibernate
On the surface sinplicity
But the darkest pit in me
Is pagan poetry
Pagan poetry
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