I don't expect too much

Let me explain

 There was a stupid poem

Well poem is a touch 

   Put the touch on you!

     Steal your wallet 

    Jim Beam your soul

   The flares are lit

Like stockings

   On a flaccid repose

  The neighbors are quiet

   Again

 I have nothing

    But I'm an idiot 

Wasting the vampires dream

   Can you come in

Oh fuck no