BLACKULA WORDS

There is language snickering in my nose
gliding and often snoring
with wine spraying out and in
to my fur-lined, cherry flashlight

Blackula haggle
mid stay press
talk faster for the
hell nine yards

Drag her mangy
pedant gel
lean straight
some liminal over
my rod god gangrene leftist

Either I've tagged your fins
or broken my K-car
I oughta nag or spread icons
over your gland jealousy
ask and you will
knotten

To poem

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