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Succuba

Drawn into a black-star void--
Finds a darkness breathing,
In slow, steady slumber,
With promises of poisoned waters
That slake unholy thirsts.

				In a labyrinth of decay and dark delights,
				To suit a Minotaur's predations,
				She writhes in somnolent ecstasy--
				Waiting...longing...knowing
				That she will waken when he falls upon her.

But to wake her? Ah, yes! Wake her,
That she might trace kisses of destruction
Along your throat--whisper secrets
Of hellfire pleasures that merely await
Consummation.

				And so he hunts, thinking to find
				Yet another of the virgins meant
				To feed his inhuman appitites, heedless
				That it is a demon whose sweet flesh
				Cries an ending to his tumescent hunger.

So generous she is with the poisons
Of her body--the bread and wine
That fill and quench, yet leave you
Always wanting more and more
Of her.

				She stirs, and his eyes fall upon the swell
				Of a tender breast bared
				In mocking, lying vulnerability--
				Never seeing how blurred has become
				The line between predator and prey.

But to wake her--Ah! To wake Lilith
From her death-night dreaming,
Inviting her cold, blood blackened lips
To sip bitter nectar
From the chalice of your soul.

				Better, then, perhaps to leave her
				Where she lies in black-star darkness,
				And dreams of drinking the last
				Faltering, tormented light
				From your eyes



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