A bloated grabmachine rips with flair,
Goring my favorite tube leggings.
A fleezing and grulk frown affair,
Gulps down my prized white things.

At darkly it hammers and tonks,
Gearcracking and gnashing my spunked.
A deadwringer it tears and bonks,
Re-Pulps up my white things chunked

Enfrightened I pull it’s tongue’s spout,
And scab-rake graygunked ingested.
I scratch through it’s warm innerds-out,
No white things found unmolested.

A-year skareeches by rudely,
The beastorff eyes my shins ogling.
Sleering my blotched leg & bones lewdly,
Missing mine white cover-up leg things.