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!