The days pass

deep into streams of nonchalant stares

quenching thirst

when you’re not there.

Feel my surge

of wanton joy,

don’t expect a merciful sigh

rush of flesh

through life’s sweet mesh.

Tales of succubus

of sirens scream

whence forth they dream,

mortal sin

tears tainted skin


for this we own

the unholy robe.

Come my love,

prance to the gates


every males


to the one

only you love

to hate.

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