Mid autumn’s eve
Dancing dust and flickering campfire alive

The slumbering women
With narrow waists
Fan the white-hot humidity
Rising in our *****

We are torn by a peculiar ***** pain
And an Ancient Whisper tells us to take them

But a Hollow Echo retorts our hammering heart
To be patient in our sleepless heat
As a watcher in the woods
Until the women’s voices
Are darkly wet with desire—
               But we cannot wait . . .

An impish grin then pulls our lips
When the sinister silence
Drapes over the desirable women

We span their length with our imagination
Full bosomed and tawny skin—
Musk and wildflowers lavishly call us
And we, carefree with the flames
Take them with a Ruling Passion

Fast dance and star fire
Clawed and kicked fought and spit
Struggling dearly to save their thighs
Against the Velvet Night

Blood smell becomes the campfire
Dancing dust dies
And we return to our sleepless side
Our Eternal Hunger satiated for the moment

And the narrow waists
Lying spent and used were Murderously Furious—
               But we could not wait . . .