Tropes

Windfalls bring me an elephant trunk of a bonanza. Lottery you are a fairy Godmother’s magic wand. I drank her wine lips. Metaphors floated in the sky. Money you are a God to spend. Her body is an erotic trope. I have to live a life of luck. Time is the servant of opportunity. My loin is a beastly passion. Luck I have charmed you into a smile. Vulva, you are a hotbed of passion. Sterile words are a poison for the soul. I flowed her into a river of ecstasy. When it comes to gambling I am a devil. Ecstasy you are poem to make love with. The fruit of Adultery is sweet. I drank her honey lips. Sweet is the fruit of fornication. Passion you are a river of joy. Satan is a lottery of luck. Palestine you are a hot volcano. Rain whispered the song of the heart. My significant other is a passionate butterfly. She is as beautiful as a peacock. Eve is a tempted serpent. Money is the God of the earth. I disseminated the poetry of the sperm. Arranged marriages are a stale fish. I am living in isle of angst. I bartered God for money. Sin is a serpent of joy. Joy you are an ecstasy to cherish. Life, a majestic wall. Windfalls are the wind of luck. I planted a seed in her womb. Money is a pussy to be licked. Money is the Phallus of Shiva. Luck yields me a tree of money. Shakespeare dramatized words and made the theatre of the world. My feelings run into passionate weather. Karma you are a God of shit. I licked her to ecstasy. Words affirmed well wish my soul. Body is a fleshy ecstasy. Time is a river of hope. I am a wounded childhood. Liberty what crimes are committed in thy name? Money is the swine that is good to eat. I am a wound that is scorching. Mary is an eclectic poem. Search my heart for passion. Nirvana you are a pillar of orgasmic ecstasy. Sin, your roots are in hell. Wine, money and women, you are poetries being sung. 666, I have made you into a garland of luck. Paris is the brothel of the mind and Philippines is the brothel of the body. Heaven is a virtue of self defeating morality. Rebellion you are joyful Satan. I have killed virtues and morality. I am a slave of lust. The past is awakening, the present passion and the future of ecstasy. Virtue you are a pillar of God and I stamp you down with sodomy. My pen is a whore giving pleasure. Seasons are a fruit growing ripe. Temptation you are a seed of fornication. All life is to be a living ecstasy. Her womb gestated with poetry. I am a seer of words. Bloody Mary is a cocktail gone crazy. My dreams are a dark world of life. Chance I obliterate you with luck. I am eagerly waiting for sunny days. Money is a miracle of getting a windfall. Blessed are the ecstatic for they shall obtain ecstasy. Winter I am burying you in a grave. Grace, you are woman offering me her body. My eyes are the windows of lust. Epiphany you are a novel book. Wings are dancing in the air. I meditate money and windfalls. Memory sooths a dream. I have killed chance and I have birthed luck. Time you are a halo of God. Holy Spirit is a good bottle whiskey. Mary you are a fish good to eat. Words are an opera of sperm. Capitalism is sinful cash. Marxism is a revolution that died. I call life to celebrate the joy of existence. Cash you are the economy of wealth. Cash, striptease your clothes. Cash is the sin of ecstasy. Poems wake up the dead. Poems, you lyric the soul. Wealth make me no beggar. Sin is the soul of ecstasy. Wine, women and money you are erotic poems. I am a fleshy spirit. Carnality is an Epicurean metaphor. God is a virtue of heaven and sin an erotic hell. Lottery, I have ordained you to live as cash in my purse. Angst burden me no more with chains. Money you earth’s God. Wretched idol why do want to be God? God cures my luck with money. Windfall is a lucky poem. Shitting is an anal Oedipus. Sisyphus was condemned by Gods and Anand is proclaimed to be the joy of existence by Gods. Sin is an altar to delight. Novel poem, you woken up my phallus. Ambiguity is the seed of literature. Passion, you are an ode of joy. I threw off my clothes of unhappiness. The hammer and the sickle, you are a God that died. Sartre, I owe you a pound of existence. The soul bleeds the blood of ecstasy. Train your thoughts to breed catharsis and ecstasy. Today has been blessed by luck. Ghana is an opera to be celebrated with my significant other. My significant other is a beautiful poem. Windfalls you are my lucky friend.

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