At dusk, I don the ravenz-pelt,
encloaked matroska fullerenes,
and sell my sol unto myself
for devil's views in vast ravines.
I vogel my utility belt, and
bolt-detail the girls latrines;

enveigling all the sleeper cells that
*may distress the signal *queens.
My arms invade the outer Welt,
and fall her sails to stall in pleas.
Th Soviet blister-krieg is dealt, als
svelte schwitzt im moment seized.

My leggett lifts beyond the kilt,
flogging welts upon her knees.
ENRAPTURE fogs her gentle tilt:
stilleto kills bubonic flees. Her
whimpers beckon without help.
"Begone, bestill," the lilt decrees.

At best her whimpers yield a 'whelp,
repeat-of-vintner' in my jeans.
The bond between her buttons stilts
as second helpings smelt her genes,
and stains the felt where stretch is felt:
Za eto vypit, na zdorov'ye! ...Izvini'.

Die Polizei ẉisꜱen wie Man hilft, und
nehmen ein' beschlagnahmt' Waffe,
zu eine Schlampe in den hilt-
(Chas, minut)... "Yes, I'll have
a double patty-melt. Miss,
what are you having, waffles?"

Das "Waffles" trigger word is spelt.
Beim Moṛgen, Victims wird vergeꜱsen
that officer who "saved her" knelt
her down in grace for waffle kisses,
and built her up in wifely guilt for
staying safe and washing dishes.
Written by arortiz73 (MTP)
Author's Note
Updated an old European police-rape poem.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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