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Bitten
Brazen glass moon like ice eyes
Fever in the chill of her gothic mask
Bitten by a creature of moonlight
Bitten and stung by her fire and touch
I am in the corridors of wet pain
Covens laugh in the theater of soul
Is this haven?
Is this shelter?
I walk where wind ghosts dance
Her high heels prance like panthers
Candles of cinnamon witches
Goddess of ancient fire
Her wolves are hungry pets
Released from cages deep within
Misty ravens of the labyrinth of sin
Some of us are afraid of castles
Some men are bound like caskets
She has taken the key from the dungeon
She tells me of kneeling
Now the moon rises over the castle
Red and black actors in chains
Dreams of her body of lace lust
Her spell cast in the moonlight mist
Wrestle with your will and her beauty
Bitten and turning into her night
poem
by
Joseph Narusiewicz
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