I had a visitor,
At mid-night.
Into my room,
He crept.
Silently-Sleathily.

A spectator,
Behind the light.
Over my bed,
He stood.
Sneering-Grinning.

What comes next,
Is a melange of emotions.
A blend of terror and bliss.
He climbed on top of me.
Like on a saddle.
His cold hands grasping on my neck.
I tried to fight him back.
But as I was choking,
He looked at me with the saddest eyes.
And I felt remorse.
I stopped.
I let him took control.
He kissed me with lips so coarse.
He reeked of stale cigarettes.
With a hint of cheap scotch.
I laid there.
And into my dreams I escaped.
I woke up at 3a.m.
My hair slightly unkempted.
My bed, a mess.
And my blankets astray.
The dampness on my forehead.
Was it a dream I had?
Surreal and yet so real.

I wondered.
No traces.
No evidence.
My mid-night visitor,
Will be a mystery.
I thought.

But, you see,
I became curiouser and curiouser.
So, I looked it up.
I was visited by an Incubus.

-Doey