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Grimoire of Dreams

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From the grimoire of your dreams
no footprints am I, but always
a scent, as you inhale me,
with no tracks on the ash.
Unfolding pages, slight of hand,
the perfumery of intimacy
from dark belly-oats of my mind.
Stirring the cauldron pot,
intoxicating the monster mash,
from the grimoire of your dreams. 

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