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Why do it alone? Eyes wide in the dark
at your curled shape sharing this bed. Hell spawn,

they claimed, with hints of goat legs, Lilith’s mark,
sick dreads. You’re Rastafari’s Babylon

in ways I can’t. What do succubae dream
of when they dream? I’m uncouth, so perhaps

how my love bites woo’d you? How the obscene
salt in my skin called you mine? What mishaps

drove us together? We dream of claiming;
my scent spilled inside you, every brutal

kiss, each time we say mine. Try and seduce
a sex demon. It’s not an easy thing …

even with dreads. You were unlovable,
you claimed. I was just a sex-starved recluse.