Tell me about your leather goods

Your little coulds and wanton woulds 

Kept secret beneath some tanned hides

Remind me, of course, how a horse gets behind

With a torch burns on wood wax

Smoldering hot liquid facts

That cook you so good

It’s a meal of mine

Prepared for stares such famous faire

Breeds beds full of tight threads, lax attitudes for bloodletting, so well fed

“I’m vamping til the show goes- again”

Red wetted sanguin sated said Drop Dead Fred and friends in a carnival of earthly desires.

A penny for your thoughts, and a secret for a game,

“Here’s one clue I have yet shared you”

What’s sticky between leaves a lovely residue, more aptitude than glue for getting two rude rubes lewd in the nude.
I stole that from a conchord in flight.

Wish me good night! 



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