artwork by: Teodoratan
Hear these somnulary baby gurgles in linen wraps. Dry docked night suspended in evervescent crushed velvet. The dredger stalled in Oakley swamp in the bulge of bioforge greenmunge. The lily blooms have bereft our noonside gardens, trilled to naughtingshire brambles and den. We cleaned the glen of all woodland sea nymphs and glypheril. These dragwired fairies of the crescendo moon, guilty of the lurid pose and pansy musk, expunge the triple goading of flesh and blood and bone.
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