Beatrixy Maccabee
my peaks hard as tiny bells,
ringing out a seductive melody,
i swirl, a dervish of debauchery,
legs spread wide — calling,
a gilded gates of paradise,
beckoning ye to surrender
to the abyss of my desire.
my voice, a sonic tonic call,
warbles, a throaty come-hither all,
weaving a spell of meander,
as the crowd's frenzy reaches a fever pitch,
their sweat-slick fingers clawing at the air,
yearning to touch, to claim,
to possess the forbidden.
i am the mistress of the mating dance,
the high priestess of hedonism,
the seductress of the damned,
and they are my willing flock,
led to the slaughter of their inhibitions,
of their sanity, o their very psuche.
grin slashed across my countenance,
plush velvets of garnet blows a kiss,
place erupts in a fit of madness.
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