Mouth to Mouth to Mine

Part of a piece I may be, but at peace apart I am, regardless of wonts, vain reaches, conjured lust, l—, scenario. Yes: to extent, of cause — but likely I shan't drown self silly for lack of finger, and where it could disappear, nor shall I feel unfull for having lacked thus, and relatives. My mindset on things won't trouble! Oh yes: place thus here, that there — perfect — and end's well, but what does that ensure? Productability, me thinks. Warranty ain't guarantee.

That does not mean there's not a neck I've slunk my hands round, rung, flushed into black mudded river, washed off palms, for reasons beneath me (hello, darling!) and matters out of mine. In fact, it does not mean anything. Glass onions, apparently. Still, with each passing, I'm quite certain I'm gaining attention from clique — less to spread around, you see. Why? I ask. To answer (to whit): for the excitement, sheer guilty, stupid terror — you feel it! You see it and utter Wows — I know — and for the sake of having more talk on matters, as it seems to.
Means nothing, tho..

Dish it out, dish dish — I can take! Beneath the bedding, I'll stick my head in — then you shall experience it once, even if it is inversely.