the lights are on the tvs off the floors are flesh and silk both sinfully soft skin glides over silk and silk glides over skin the penthouse is alive tonight theres people writhing in its veins
sunken in the masters chair lord golds face— blank survey women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand and turn to receive as he waves again
the wine is fire the whiskys full of stars theres a deaf mute in a bunny suit working the bar the lovers FUCK they pulse and moan passion paying tribute at the foot of a porcelain.......
sunken in the masters chair lord golds face— blank survey women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand and turn to receive as it waves again
STILL HIS EYES ARE LIKE AN EMPTY CAROUSEL PROMISING PLEASURE BUT OFFERING NONE! ....she feels him, WATCHING GAZING LEERING BLANKLY VACANT WORTHLESS GOLDEN PERFECT
and outside of these walls these walls nothing exists and inside of these walls theres flesh + gold and blood in the wine outside theres barren emotional landscapes here we drink, dream + cum inside here theres no pain HERE.....SHE.......COMES WASH OFF THE FILTH AND BRING HER shower her body with julep and incense fill her with jewels covered in cum sacrificed in HIS alter of passions the golden day has come
the lights are all off now and the love growing louder the pink, throbbing and filling the room indulging the inner, denying the outer shes brought before he his empty gaze it lingers.... ...he beats a cats paw- against a toy drum his GOLDEN WILL be done.