Emilienne
Emilienne, my sweet Emilienne. Fancy sapphires in the eyes, golden shower in her hair, burning under the lights in the wretched streets. Bare arms, bare ankles, neck trim and creamy and caressed by the moon naked September. Cherub of paradise invented floating demon from hell. Ripe mouth, tongue lips silk embroidery and claws, sea pearls. Devilish grin, angelic smile. Bare feet, nails polished glass, knees petals rosa and endless legs.
Who could have you, Emilienne, my sweet Emilienne. Who could keep you ... who could lock yourself in a golden cage, stay away from street prostitution.
Emilienne in the hypnotic stillness of sleep, nightmares Emilienne in the morning, Emilienne in wine, water and fall with each breath.
Emilienne between Egyptian linen sheets and the pillows of feathers plucked from dead angels. Emi forwealthy Lienne for the confused. Emilienne for me, for the world, for the night pederast and timpani from the brothel. Emilienne for silks from the East and the baladi frantic, but Emi under billowing curtains of the beds unknown.
Emi shakes the strings of the lyre, Lienne twists his hips and arms, opens his mouth, sighs ... sighs, and the brothel seems to want to open their jaws and swallow him. Lights stroke it, lick it, elevate it to the most obscene altar of the pagan gods. The coils of incense, they penetrate, violate him, hiding his face from the shameless rabble. Emilienne arches, cracks, breaks. Emi shakes his hair on fire, Lienne opens its eyes of sapphire stolen from the cave of wonders. Emilienne stands up, shakes her silk skirt east. Crackle beads of sweat on his upper lip. Oh, my sweet Emilienne. How bitter honey in your mouth, how sweet is your love asleep, given away, sold, paid off and, preserved and polished and hundreds and hundreds of fans at night. Night and day, lovers rich, poor lovers, lovers gross, dead lovers, lovers crazy with the silent whisper of her lips fruity, before the inevitable call your hips scented with Indian sandalwood.
Oh, Emilienne. Emi, OFID and shameless divada. Lienne, snake underwater deserts. How do you feel your bite, Emilienne? Your teeth are sharp, your mouth sensual, caressing your hair shimmering wisp, fire enraged, violent fire. How deep, Emi, Lienne? How deep I can recorrerte, love, arrasarte?
Emi. Lienne. Emi, I wish. Lienne you desire. Emilienne, I wish, I wish. Emilienne, I look, I look through the curtains of purple smoke, the curtains of colored stones, the curtains of the beds usurped. Emi for the moon, Lienne for the stars. Emilienne for evening, nights, motherswandering ugadas and sunrises. Emilienne you seek. Inside the pipes full of opium, at the bottom of the glasses of brandy, white goddess, dusty and dark. Emilienne, my sweet Emilienne. Who has paid for you tonight? Who has been assaulted in the wet and rocky boulevards? Who are you ruining?
Loans have your face, widows curse your name. Emi. Lienne. Emi in the blue sky. Orphan blood Lienne sunset shot. Emi in the fire that consumes me, golden flame as the source of burning hair. Havens has left bancarrota. Legions of hell has filled with souls who are dying of passion.
What are you made, Emi, Lienne, my sweet Emilienne? How blasphemous ritual have sprung eternal your legs? What has taken human form to the whiteness of your chest marble? Are you a god, the devil, death? Emi is god, Lienne is the devil and they are death. Death is soothing, carnal and poisonous. The death has blue eyes and fiery red hair. Dance of death, tangled in silks, including butterfly wings.
Emilienne, I look, "d & oacute; nde have you hidden? The brothel is swollen, breathing, shakes. Emi has retreated into the depths of melancholy paradise, a spectral gap. Lienne behind the canvas. Emi cross-legged, sweet smelling Lienne between the braziers burning herbs prophetic. Emilienne lying on a bed of fancy, watching the stars to stab the warm midnight. Emi opens his mouth, speaks Lienne, Emi question. I answer, Emilienne smiles. Candles glow in her eyes, her hair, her creamy skin. The coins jingling in his pockets when my clothing falls to the ground. Sing, whisper, dying. Coins come together to clean dirty coins. Soiled dand blood ones, muddy others. Emilienne still smiling, angelic smile, devilish grin. The bed creaks, the floor creaks, his bones creak. His mouth was wet, her legs around me, sapphire eyes narrowed amid a heavenly slumber. Emilienne, my sweet Emilienne.
Who will come after me? Another poor devil, a merchant, a count, a king? Who will die for someone to buy? Emi laughs, sighs Lienne. Emilienne knows all the blood has been spilled in the world for him, Emi, by Lienne, warmth of his heart, the passion secur
"Impossible, works for me for five years. Previously worked for my cousin in Istanbul.
And before he was in Greece.
- And in Egypt!
- India!
- China!
Emi, Lienne. Emilienne between fluffy pillows of his bed, immersed in the fumes of whiskey
- India!
- Iraq!
- China!
Emi, Lienne. Emilienne between fluffy pillows of his bed, immersed in the fumes of whiskey
