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A quickie isn’t nearly enough
When I consider
The implications
Of love
And sex, and life, and death
A quickie isn’t nearly enough
I want you
To feast on my innards
Like a starving and mad and insane bald eagle
Beak and sharp eyes
See into my soul
Sizzle and fry my intestines
Like you would a bratwurst, or kielbasa, or italian sausage
Saute the life right out of me
And watch me
Squirm and smile all the while.
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