Slowly, surely, it encircles,
Draws near, stalks, like a predator.
Wafting, enticingly tickles,
As though a finger crooked come hither.
Crimson allure, scarlet fever.
Beckons it does, reflections,
A portrait of a mirror.
No resistance, no escape.
Firing neurons, but all in vain.
Logic valiant but bowed in shame.
In glory, it is, and the spoils of war,
The victor it goes, the evil triumph.
Haunting call of the sirens,
Like sweet nectar of the gods.
Ancient curses of now and being,
Of human will in submission.
Like mist thru the cracks of time,
Enter its sweet embrace like heady wine.
Of bodies entwined in loveless lust,
And humanity discarded like so much dust.
