f, goth, poem

The night makes creatures of us all.
Once ordinary, suburban folk
Rock the roofs of their moralities
With the silken lust
Born from the moment of smile.
Vampiric tastes become insatiable:

Must! Must! Must!

She's outa control -
It scares yet sizzles:
For her occupation I will
Lay down and be conquered;

She pins me down with her knees
And hands holding wrists
To take a neck
That cries in living orgasm.
Ilaugh and cry out loud,
And she (the controller)
Gazes with eyes reflecting the Moon.