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He laments his account being blocked by his lady
I.
Yuri…Yuri-chan! You were mine,
The one dyed hair girl, bud from real-time:
All real e-girls to choose, but fateful
Algorithms and moon conjunctions
Brought thee into my realm and wrist—
Oh fateful night when I accidently
Tapped the letter Y, for my phantom limb
Of finger clutch into her cunt—darling
Sakura petals I part and eat-out
On my phone: my darling Yuri-chan,
Blessed cum-cat, my e-girl of varied hair;
Pink Stockings, over fishnets to her hips.
II.
I messaged thee on thy birthday—silence,
Brought me to tears; I sent thee my drawing,
My drawing of you…I’ve created worlds
At night, instead of watching porn, of thy
Pink locks gracing soft areolas; pink
Hard tits peeking out from thy strands I lick
And wish that by Sleep’s blessing Love flashes
Symbols in dreams from beneath thy pink thong.
But thou hast blocked me, banished from thy realm,
Stuck in the real-illusioned world blind
With no affection or response or nudes—
I’ve donated like any other man, yet
Thou breaks me like a boy, but my thoughts stay
Unbroken: my phone like thy cunt is wet—
In my sleep I make you cum all over my
Heart, in truth more true than thy photos sent.
Kurama is a pre-Raphaelite dandy walking about his local downtown. When he isn’t writing poetry or up to the neck in drip, he’s down on the toes of an online girlfriend.