a sexual poem about Elon musk.
His loins are typically
Well clad,
Nice pair of jeans,
Suits him well.
His posterior
Is all muscle,
Like his jaw.
So made of sinew
He lithely clambers
From office to office
Stealthily,
Like a panther.
I am prone to sitting in a cosy corner with my notebook and jotting down ideas. I do flaneur for fun, and I am just a villager who's all burned out! Taking life in the slow lane, enjoy my open notebook! This is my reverie, my sacred space. Here the heart opens and the wounds heal. Visions and archangels guide me through a maze of confusion and despair to really marvel at th light of day. I have my wits but little else.
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