Thieves

Soul stealers dance slow,
short skirts and slits
entice the eyes of fools
falling for their smiling trickery;
Dionysian masks,
blood for blood wine.

Full with drink and lust,
aching to fuck,
disguised as Goddesses,
manipulating man’s mind to behold
them as precious charms to buy;
many men have
fallen
for their lies.
      
They take as they please
when the cover of night
is darkest;
flesh meets beneath the sheets
of paper and ballpoint pens write
between her lips.

The morning hang
over
throbs like a hard cock
when sober senses are returned.

Wet from when she came
into the room, hair soaking
from the rain outside falling from the moon.

No love left
in the rusted cage of man,
scars marked
like an X over their hearts;
some scabbed,
and still bleeding