All the ghouls thought this long dead infernal romance had died
And decayed into rotting dust and bad memories
Until that night at the cemetary
When things cold turned very hot and sexy
Amongst the silent graves arranged neatly in a row
Two shadows appeared and began to make mad passionate love
Some said the moans were from restless spirits and they would be half right
Others believed the cavorting shapes were just a trick of the eye
And who am I to say if this was corporeal or a spiritual feast of mad delight
I only know that in the black ether wild things do stray
When it was all done there were just dried leaves blowing in the wind
Left behind
And a hungry black cat meowing
At the door to a a crypt
A sticky
Wet spot remained to tell the tale
That could have been milk
That smelled like whooped pussy
And eternity
If it was not spoiled coffee creamer
Wasting away
In silence.
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