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The Piquant Taste of YouthIn the midst of jaded sleepI stir upon the crimson sheets, Stained dark red with blood. A sharp, sweet urge for flesh Brings upon me change in dress, I leave once more to hunt. Out in the cool, dark night I quell in me my urge to fight Luring my prey to my door. I spy my victim drawing near, Her sweet young flesh she brings to bear, My fangs sink into her tender neck. Her soft moans do chill my spine, I now wish to make her mine, Thus, I then retract. Now my servant sworn to behold My every whim, my Lolita! I conduct her back to my humble nest And deprive her of her blood-stained dress, Then stare in awe at her beauty laid quite bare. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Her innocence belied by her lucifugous pose, A study in miniature perfection standing right before my eyes. As dusk descends, I prepare her for her initiation rites, A barefoot sprite clad in naught but night invoking in strangers a nocturnal fright. Her beauty bewilders and distracts men from the tasks they have at hand, Stirring their paternal instincts and leading them to the gates of the damned. To choose but one amongst many is the task she has been set, The sweet blood of a lone victim will reinforce the strength of her delicate threat. Then a brute with lusts so uncontrolled attempts to accost her from behind But she blurs with speed as she whips aside and around his neck her arms entwine… “He’s now mine.” Her teeth sink into his willing neck and slowly she begins to suck His life out through his veins and thus she drinks his blood. Her meal complete I lead her back to my den, Her thirst newly quenched on the claret of men, She collapses onto the bed that devoid of life three corpses hang. Her flesh contrasts with the rivulets of gore That saturate the bed as she begins to snore, I deem her worthy of début into our high society. She’s stole the soul of the underworld With her blackest hair and dainty curls, An enigma with murder written on her face. A delight to know with her cultured tongue, Her admirers range from the old to the young, She cultivates her appeal and boldly steps into the realm beyond. |