Night falls swift,
And mends a rift,
Twixt the living and the damned.
Walpurgis Nacht,
The pistol cocked,
By petite ivory hands.
The trees draw back unnerved
As I wend the path to thee,
All clad in black,
For the attack,
On Christianity.
...And so to weave my tale,
Of concubines so pale.
Unlocking harem doors,
Where inside dwell departed whores.
A perverse soul indeed,
In harlots place my seed,
Who twist and writhe,
And pant, Alive!
Ere I'm inclined to feed.
The whimpers as I drain thy veins,
Like soft sung choral hymns.
From silken parts I can't abstain.
The flush of flesh and graven sins.
I am strigoi, the walking dead,
The stuff of legends told.
The growling monster 'neath thy bed,
Nearly three centuries old.
Yet I was once of mortal ken,
The sort of ordinary men,
Who caught the eye of a demoness,
And died in the folds of her gliding dress.
Yes I remember clear!
Long ago I'd naught to fear,
I flittered through that masquerade,
As if my youth would never fade.
'Twas at All Hollows' Fair,
The scent of bon fires in the air,
Autumnal leaves,
Adrift the breeze,
Were strewn all through her hair.
And was she not a sight to see?
In purest femininity,
Her red rouged lips brought vertigo,
Like a bitch straight from the verse of Poe.
At once it was decided,
My fate for me was provided.
When she plucked at my heart strings,
I'd brave the grave and other depraved things.
And then my world was spinning,
And my cruel countess was grinning.
The moonlight glowing in her eyes,
Had made, assuaged, and paralyzed.
I awoke to darkness and the scent of ancient musk,
Gossamer and candles dim,
Coupled with retreating dusk.
Lo! Lady Death approaches,
Fixed with lace and golden broaches.
A dusty angel clad in white,
My Cold Crypt mistress of the night.
She speaks to me with siren tone,
Her tenor chills me to the bone,
It haunts me,
Taunts me,
Takes control,
Of my feeble mortal pining soul...
("Hush now dear I know you’re frightened,
Kiss me and so be enlightened.
Give thy soul, thy blood, thy sperm.
Or lie this night amidst the worms.")
...And I consent lest I provoke,
This wrathful Lamia I woke,
Forfeiting to The Queen of Lies,
With wolven fangs and dripping thighs.
Salve mater noctis amen!
Salve mater noctis in aeternum.
Within her temple it's like heaven,
Making love on crypts unleven.
Arching, moaning, I'm aghast.
For the dead travel quick and cum so fast.
Those fiery tresses in my face,
Her lips in quite a lower place.
Deceitful lashes brushed my cheek,
We fucked for what felt like a week.
'Twas every dark desire,
Of which I'd never tire. I'd be a slave,
Forever rave,
With madness to inspire.
Soon I'm drifting astral planes,
And not a shred of guilt remains.
Visions I marvel and detest,
I give my blood without protest.
At consciousness I grasp,
And still I hear her little gasps.
My limbs were growing weak,
When at last I heard her speak...
("Hush now dear I know you’re weary,
Dream of sprites and woodland faeries.
For once my heart pumps life to thee,
Thou shalt know immortality...")
Salve mater noctis amen
Salve mater noctis in aeternum!
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