Lady Lilith
Implosions at the Seams, №2
Her pupils roll away,
leaving no hazel to be seen
amid the white of Her eyes.
Melanin disappears,
and with it Her humanity,
leaving no trace of civility
in or near my presence.
Her mouth,
no longer a mouth,
now a greedy whirlpool;
seizes from me what it craves,
takes from me whatever it desires.
And from it hangs
what was once a tongue,
now a broken, dripping pendulum;
swinging in harmony, in synchrony
with ecstasy.
Gradually, Her eyes return,
but remain unrecognizable;
drunk on mortal desperation.
They look not, they see not,
the only scan — only jitter.
Beastly, piercing eyes,
desperately fixate on our pleasure;
desperate to absorb
the shockwaves of crude lust
erupting from our clashing bodies.
She forages and feeds,
image after image,
insatiable,
unfulfilled,
raging like an addict.
Her hips thrust,
aggressively,
impatiently,
violently,
desperate to take what
She’s claimed as Her own;
she devours me with no regard
for the splashing mess
She makes of me.
I feel blessed, enlightened,
grateful to be
drenched in Her desire.
Her nails, no longer nails —
now the claws with which She impales me —
the prongs with which She pins me
to the ground beneath Her.
I am Her prey,
and she is restlessly insatiable.
Cleopatra? No.
Medusa? Cold.
A harpy? Warmer.
a Succubus, a Beastly Goddess;
lust perfectly incarnate.
Lady Lilith: a Queen unafraid
to make Her throne out of the face
of any man, any mortal,
She desires for Herself.
She sits atop me,
and rides;
hips ruthless and indignant.
She sits atop me,
rides,
and I succumb to Her every swivel
helplessly.
Through labored breaths I look up,
gaze upon my Queen,
and through a clenched jaw, I dribble
the only words I can, or wish to utter:
“I am yours, your Majesty.
Consume me until you’re satisfied,
until none of me remains,
if you must.”
When Milady burns atop me like a flame: it’s the only time I ever ‘speak in tongues.’
