The Demon Mistress of last night's horror,
Dreams away in sacred little fancies;
And sick the morning after to abhor,
Now that she has cast her necromancies.

The dark last night was one of restless sleep,
In the shadowland 'tween wake and slumber;
T'was dragged to sink in Morpheus' deep,
Arms there to forget and not remember.

She's a woman - (though I've not seen her face);
As floating gently, in seas quite fathomless,
I'm then roused a little by her unquiet grace;-
To be plunged into an ocean bottomless.

My life force and my energy desire;
Is taken by this ghastly Succubus,
She mounts me in my sleep - my rod of fire,
Thrusts upward, and into her nothingness.

She wants it all, to drain my energy;
The rhythm of her hips now grows more frantic,
I'm helpless to resist too young to die;
She stops me at my peak in taunting tantric.

I start awake now drenched in sweat and shaking;
I hear a she-cat shriek in piteous cry,
Mewling at the midnight moon and taking,
Weak souls to their dreadful destiny.




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