It was Sunday, but he had to work, was such a chore, sort of a bore, how do you hunt a boar, I wouldn’t know, maybe a deer, follow a trail, a scent left behind, a hunter and his rhymes,

Anyways, one day the poet died, I cried and cried and cried, I made a deal with the devil, to resurrect his life, I paid the price thirty thousand times, and god said it was okay, I'll pay, I know you couldn’t live, without sin, without the play, the beginning of the day, and the vampire travelled down, his hands, following the treasure, to that sweet girl, ruffle her feathers, unsettle her, she’s going for a ride, let me just glide, my hand down, have some fun, anyways the heat is here, and we’re ready, to let the ritual begin, and a third thing echoed out, the lady crosses her hands and bends, please, she says, I need a friend, a warm, wet, cozy time, how much can you spend, enough, to see what’s beneath this blouse, would you give me a lifetime, this is where the poet died, because, a gash opened up, he had to fill it up, what, where am I, what did I do this time, its cool, you were just finishing a rhyme, would you give it up, fall in, just for a brunette, some smoke, some privacy, a lazy, sweaty, Saturday, where’s my identity, someone get that thing working, I need some cover, and a shower, from all this grime, the poet is running out of rhymes, anyways, he ran away, he says, you’ll see me Saturday, today is Monday, the work has just begun.

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