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Devils and dancing angels

The two evening's festivities, like a mustachioed, brill-cremed casanova and a breathless debutante, are dancing a tango in the ballroom of my skull. Two equal and opposite rationalities, united only by madly jiggling boobs and an affection for zany costume, both at once compelling and disturbing, devil's fruit and cupid's quarrel, refusing to cancel each other out.

And then I think, ah hell, who cares, all this hot burlesque for me.

Joseph | 19 Nov 2004