Blisterbeads and Poppysocks

blisterbeads and poppysocks, she had 37 locks,on her door down by the park new york city after dark she had hair,a weighty sheaf,tied with vines,a maple leaf, drifted in upon the breeze late october,'neath the trees he was thin as silver beams slicing thru the window seams where the blinds blinked neon lies he in love and full of sighs she descended from the ghouls feeding on the souls of fools thought him silly and naive,had a wild card up her sleeve doused herself in thick perfume she the bride and he the groom tred the aisle to paradise,his a virtue,hers a vice he gave morning glory blooms blue and purple in her rooms she gave something with a beak,black and feathered, cold and sleek he complied and drank the draft hearing nothing but her laugh as he fell into her box of blisterbeads and poppysocks.