Paraphenalia

of silent destruction

leaning over

taking me in.

Greasy streaks

of ebony line

the corridor, delineated

under a

saffron sky.

Doors haphazardly juxtaposed

flaunting both rhyme and reason

offering only opportunities

to obliterate

the senses.

In one room

I happened to see

seduction ever most

vile.

A corpulent woman

donned in cards,

else naked

head to toe,

gyrated about

unnaturally,

her face a grotesque

mask.

The sign above

to all decried,

"The fabulous

Lady Luck".

Her victim,

entranced by those movements,

offered to her all he had,

but once his possessions

became hers,

she ended with him her session.

In a panic,

I do recall,

an act so bold,

so irrational.

From his hand

he did separate

with the greatest of might

his every finger from its joint.

Thus the shapely succubus

refocused on him,

hand drowning in crimson runnels,

to take what she felt was hers.

Could I not stay for more

for from behind me, a prodding came on

darker, darker into the abyss

travelling onwards, my weary soul.