The moonlight slips unbidden into my womb
It was never my intention to serve him
Between us there is no love
Only the suspicious ache of a pernicious hunger
*
His insignia extends the length of my spinal column
My nerves remember what my eyes cannot conceive
*
In the same way that blood forges hope
By maintaining a predetermined course
He settles deviously on the chest
That the lungs may not drink enough
To arouse resistance
*
He is an intractable savant
The night is his emissary
His bastion as well
He drags his obsidian claws
Across my inner thighs
Thirsting the milk
Of an illegitimate desire
*
Being dreamless he depends solely
On artifice to communicate
It’s such an authentically human trait
To disguise through application
That one cannot but wonder
If he did not exist first as a man
*
Each night astounded by the realization
That one can be multi-orgasmic even in hell
I find my life force slipping like an exclamation
*
Influenced in style by Jim Carroll
Brilliant..Loved it! 🙂
Ha..I have written of the succubus myself..started a long time ago, and yet unfinished. One day..
If you ever finish please share!
This is excellent writing, a deep pleasure to read and savour. Thank You
Thank you John =)
Great piece here Yves.
Thanks Laurie!
This one’s is full of imagery, Brilliant.
And guess what, I have a theme in my mind since yesterday where this picture can fit beautifully.
Thank you for the reblog. 🙂
I look forward to seeing it! And thank you =)
“You have GOT to stop wearing these costumes,” she sighed, looking at him.
“Grrr,” he said.
“Another dress ruined,” she whispered. “Exactly how much clothes do you think I have?” she asked wearily. “Look! My skirt is floating in the brackish water.”
“Grrr,” he said, a bit ashamed.
“I mean, if you’re going to carry me away all the time, could you at least land in a spot where I won’t get all dirty?”
“Grrr?”
“Yes, I know you like your games, but enough is enough. Why can’t you just wear a cape, like everyone else?”
“Grrr,” he said sadly.
“Of course I think your beautiful. The wings…well, you KNOW I love the wings. I don’t EVER want you to get rid of the wings,” she said, running her hand over his dark, soft feathers. “And yes, I do love what you did with your hair but I’m running out of dresses, my sweet.”
“Grrr?””
“Yes, that would be wonderful. Next time we will stroll through the park. like a proper couple. Thank you,” she said relieved. “Now where would you like to go for dinner?”
lol! I love that he only answers in grrrs and that he seems puzzled
Brilliant! Love dark poems, tend to spark my imagination 🙂
Thanks Hector XD