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Gypsy Vampire Moths


The soul of my me,
sexuality...
most practically
I am.
Given to confession,
a gypsy vampire moth..
of the night life.
I take fight,
out of sight...
my cock drips for you.

A bard on Vermouth,
holding forth...
my couth.
I suck.
I fuck.
I thirst.
I trust my cock, that is my musk...
after dusk,
in need of fuck.

The flesh of my lovers...
shadows on the window shades.
Freely give of their vanity,
they are not bane.
Spewing their elixirs,
my mind's tonic mixers...
as I scribe.
I do not hide,
just abide.

You're the bite,
of my new craze...
I cum.
Gypsy vampire moth,
of the night life...
I sung.
Well hung.
My cock with me
I brought...
full of broth.
I arrived for you.

The soul of my me,
sexuality...
I do not hide.
For I am the master
of my erotic universe.
Curse by many,
patronized by few.
They must swim,
their own orgasm stew.
For together we fly
to our cocoon.

I'm the gypsy vampire moth,
I flew.
Turning off the night life,
it's 6 AM.
I dim.
I shudder...
taking cover
of the morning dawn.
My wings spread,
taking sight..
of sarcophagus.
In any kind of
erotic endeavor...
now as one we gather.
Eternal gypsy vampire moths.

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