A kiss of course, a kiss that was, a token of affection;
At least, in mind, this he assumed, by eager predilection…
But the kiss, made him, a loaded gun,
With darkening dreams and maddening fun.
Too close to sun; he flew and fell;
Too deep was it, the frigid well.
He ended up, in chains and vices;
Telling of tragedies, demises,
And in the ear, of reason lost,
By she, he was told, of kiss’ cost:
He sits to this day, rotting away… crying aloud... thrashing,
Because he kissed, the succubus, and lost his soul in passing.