INCUBUS
INCUBUS
What stays
The shadows
Without heart
invites the cold
Leaves His mark
Fouls the corners
Breathes the eaves
On occasion
I believe
I've been told
The fear the dark
Restless wakings
From a dream
Incubus
Crawls across
like black moss
The ceiling beams
Spins a web
Hangs his thread
Silk as soft
The clothes my bed
I dare not call
On fear but lust
Race my pulse
Draw my blood
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