The Witching Hour

Losing sleep, afraid of the beast I will become Tossing & turning between love stained sheets Consumed with passion; undefiled passion Hungering for a love to devour: a fire I can consume Howling at the moon, no sooner do I become a wolf Chasing unsuspecting hopefuls, hunting love-drunk devotees Dragging men into my bed, there I sink my teeth into their benediction Lapping up milk & sweat during the matinee of friction Lost within the witching-hour, to awaken with no recollection Of the collection of men between my teeth.