ForeplayPoetrySuccubus

Succubus

She takes them when they sleep,

At their most vulnerable.

Easy upon which to feast.
They do not feel her, unaware

Of her licks at their throats.

Her fingers combing their body hair.

No.

When they are in slumber

And you can hear the old clock's ticks,

They do not consciously feel her

As she fills her mouth with their dicks.

She comes to them in day-visions,

Their thoughts,

Fantasies,

Their night-dreams,

This succubus.

To ease them apart at their very seams.

It seems she leaves them

Unmarked.

After caressing their scarred parts.

But

She leaves seeds in their brains

Their aching balls

Their vacant passenger seats in their

Otherwise empty cars.

Crouching in the back of their memories.

It's said that Karma's a bitch.

However

Ask a Succubus, she'll tell you that torture

Is a self-inflicted, unscratchable itch.

And

Her fingertips imbue upon them an invisibly indelible stain.

It remains.

It will not be removed.

It's picked at.

It's poked.

The Succubus' cruel joke,

Gifting them this eternal irritant.

As she recalls their skin under her nails

They're still lost in her tight cunt.

In waking life,

Sometimes,

They think they feel the merest of her touch.

Because she takes them, this Succubus.

Having had inside her their energy

Recognising

Not singularities 

So...Many...Similarities... 

These animal bodies

Housing male entities

That seek to devour

Femininity...

She can haunt them.

In their sleep.

In their day-visions

In their night-dreams and fantasies.

For every 'mutt',

For every 'fuck boi'

The Succubus dines on three.

When they're unaware.

They're distracted.

Vulnerable.

Implanting within them that

Self-inflicted

Seed.

#Succubus     #YDLD