Sometimes spirits dance around us,
Whispering in our ears with serpent like tongues,
Drag us out of our bed into the crowded forests,
Where a connoisseur of innocent souls
Waits for its most special delicacy,
Marinated in tear soaked pillowcases,
And the demons dance and sing around the fire,
Because a virgin’s blood boils the hottest.
My eyes blinked open to the blinding sun,
And I can’t remember getting home,
Wonder if the party actually happened,
And try to recall every elusive detail,
After all, the celebrations was for me.
But the memories drown in the normalcy
Of every rising sun, struck by the boredom
That comes from a respectable life,
A monotony that I never noticed before,
When my heart sat unbeating in my chest,
And that’s the problem with preying spirits,
They sing like sirens to our unafflicted hearts,
Tell them that they can do so much more than live
And they believe you, what else could they do?
Nameless, faceless persons slip in through my window,
Press their lips to my mouth, teach my tongue to dance,
Each imbuing me an unnatural desire I didn’t know existed,
And the air gets thicker and hotter, shedding away clothing,
Until only the touch of hands and tongue feels welcome on my skin,
And I feel my body consumed by lovers that never deserved it.
It’s time to call an exorcist, I know,
But every night I climb mountains of desire
That stun me with their supposed impossibility,
And although I know the air is thinner at the top,
Some of the deadliest poisons are sugar sweet,
And I can’t remember why I shouldn’t want this.