Treasure Island

Mark R Slaughter


Conquest


I’ve come to play upon your pulse:
I have my fangs…

To ease a swollen line I spy
Upon your neck –
And what a satin slenderness! –
Venus surely would agree –
O that she would acquiesce
Her vintage unto me!

But now to tear your blouse asunder;
Swell your silken breast before
The thund’rous leer of demon’s eye!

Sultry is her struggling dance –
Erotic turns of torsion
Show the torture of a bite!
Come! Fling your soul aloft for me!

Wailing tones of aerial pitch upon
The perforation draw delight of pain and fear –
Ah! to see them flame upon a maiden’s form!

Be not forlorn my little thing;
I sipped your lacy life away so
You could in my arm display
A pleasing death,
Relieve yourself of humankind –
A role anew to take, to find –

As lips of blue awake your mouth –
And there: the incandescent white
Refulgent in the light of timid candles
Hiding in the room.

But now we fly before the morn –
We must ourselves entomb!


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










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vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire
vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire vampire
vampire vampire vampire vampire
vampire vampire vampire vampire
Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula
Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula Dracula

Submitted: Thursday, October 14, 2010
Edited: Sunday, May 08, 2011

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