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Poetic Hell -- Zenarith L. Morningstar

  • November 4, 2020 12:26 PM EST

  • November 4, 2020 12:26 PM EST



    I creep my way across the bar,
    Eyeballing the young Milf looking across the Counter.
    I know she wouldn't by far,
    Consider dating a Gothic Vampire with Books like Ash Fire.
    I push my way through the Crowd,
    And Miss Scarlet turns with a Twisted Smile.
    Miss Scarlet's been Dirty,
    I hadn't seen her in Awhile.
    I lean in for a Sniff of Perfume,
    She pushes me into a Seat, a Bourne Gloom.
    I straiten my Coat and Pull on the back of her Hair,
    She loves every Second, I'm barely Aware--
    --Miss Scarlet bites down on my Neck,
    I quickly feel the Poisons Paralize my Body.
    Moments later I feel the Sexual Arousal of the Feeding,
    Miss Scarlet looks Young. So Young that she's Rotting.
    Miss Scarlet likes me, I Creep her at Times.
    But now with a Blood Fee, I'll have to Creep a Rhyme.
    My Deepest Wish, to you my Love,
    As we never stray, away from this Pub.
    Let's Die Here,
    Let's Live Here.
    Let's Cry Here,
    Let's Give Here.
    To you Miss Scarlett,
    I give you my Hand.
    Not your average Harlot,
    Not Rich, Barely a Grand.
    But fulfill my Fantasy,
    And I'll Complete your Reality.

    ----Poetic Hell --- #0001 ---- Blood of Fangs----
    ----Zenarith L. Morningstar --- Copyright 2020 -----