To gloryhole dreams, manicured hands, and vibratory streets
Velvet skirts swirl through the cobblestone fantasy lane, as the maids fold linens and light candles of forgotten pleasures. Each gesture: a ballet of obedience and power.
Beneath the glow of neon moons, street dancers collapse time with every beat. A city of folds awakens—spasms of music kissing the fingertips of the curious gods.
Each nail painted like stained glass windows from the temple of soul. Kingdom colors: fuchsia, pearl, and dream-smoke. Touch is prophecy. Hands are law.