To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Succubus, Muse I have not written as one banished, amnesiaed by the promise of a letter to a one-night stand, but writhing in insomnia With dull subconscious lust. Zigzagged, diverted like one from a lover, the aberration, the mistress, years of wandering, falling from your fever - the frozen perverted tranceā¦. waiting for the sweat, the dew to form on my lips the dawn to capture my loins thrust me back to the flush dead of night woods by your bonfire. I succumb to the pungent imagery. Your wetness. Your non-chalance. Your flesh as mouth and tutor. |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!