Brett

This is the dark fringe that evokes a thousand dreams,
His black poetry echoed by a thousand screams,
Byron couldn’t bring more shadows to a room.

A thrust and a mewl, a vampiric feline,
An awkward, beautifully androgynous design.
Squeal, let your intonation take me there.

And so, us, silly groupies, we drown,
Hungry for your trademark frown,
In ironic blue suede shoes, for you.