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

bone

for this we own

the unholy robe.

Come my love,

prance to the gates

predestined

every males

fate

to the one

only you love

to hate.