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White Spats and Highfalutin

Tags: vampire
Not often do vampires get to scribe,
haunting in the mausoleum...
until the orange disk settles over horizons.
While cursing and masturbating
to nightly occasions.
Wearing white spats
and being highfalutin.

Stroking my cock, 
as I swill.
Ink dripping from my quill,
as I look out into the night.
Another daily cum.
She awakes.
I write,
dotting my I's.
Waxing my moustache. 

My mind telegraphs,
arousal and lust.
Visioning her invitation,
across wide dimension.
On the other side of her portal,
her hearts thumps, 
for the vampire's honey...
erupting in her cunt. 
My monocle steams.

My inkwell spills,
as I hesitate.
Looking into the mirror,
I see shadows of past.
What I use to be.
A geek.
A nerd.
Now I am rook. 
No one challenges me.
Tightening my ascot. 

I vampire.
Inspired by lust
and erotic persuasions.
Hermaphrodite, 
with bat wings.
Questing for souls,
seeking immortality
at midnight.
I will kiss thee,
on the nape. 

Your womanhood
runs over the bank.
As breasts sway, 
into your eternity.
Giving rise to your hips.
I ride the great divide.
While cursing and masturbating
to nightly occasions.
Wearing white spats
and being highfalutin.

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