Sitr

 
in my chambers you do creep
vexing my vision with your speech
darkness dear won't you speak in metaphor
the poetry sewn into your heart
it is a private language
that of screams
terror knows what I mean

in the halls that grows thick with shadows
silently observe terror
in the onyx kingdom from which I originate
you stir my loins frustrating me

legion do my bidding
seduce the man of my choosing
cultivate lust where there is none
seep into his loins and make him rise to greet me
tender fascination with our realm

a fire-breather with a cutting tongue
friction for the diction he spells
I seek the altered cunt
knowledge in madness I am proof
succumbing to desire

It makes me feel weak
upon my blood, I am in league
devilish need see me
I conjure now a darkling
handsome and fair of faith
a purist of horror and of flesh

taste of my divinity
my soul as an offering
oh ye dark one