demon of lust

gathering morels in the woods a storm approached my back, thunder shook the ground itself, the sky was daunting black. in the cold white flash of lightning right there by that dead tree lies the form of some living thing, oh god, i think it is me. i need to get a closer look, be sure the features are mine look at the terror on the face beneath that skeletal pine. what in this existence would frighten me nearly to death, perchance it was an angel of hell, entered on my whispered breath. they appear to be no more than a black and vaporous mist, like billions of tiny droplets left on my lips when angel-kissed. there arose the devil’s herald, black angel straight from hell; quicksilver coursing through my veins, i’ve drunk from the enchanted well. i’ve discovered now i’m unable to move that my wrists and my ankles are bound with vines of the serrated bramble bush which only grows in malevolent ground. i smell the verdant forest floor infused with putrescent implications brutally strange and rancid perfume, a remembrance of like situations. jet black roses on mirrored stems sporting thorns of stainless steel woven into a daisy chain, a skin- piercing crown i can’t help but feel. mercury trickles down my face, caused by sterling razor-edged leaves the suffering compels me to lament; a result of what the demon believes. he traces my jaw, one ear to the other chrome stiletto, colder than glacial ice from the hollow of my pulsing throat topubic bone, he makes a hairline slice ‘if you harbor even one faint hope,’ the hellion now whispers to me, ‘pray to your god,do as you’re told i may determine to hear your plea.’ through these events i've not spoken nor yet even looked in his eyes afraid if i gaze upon this demon it might hastenimminent demise. his assumption is i accepta god, presumes it will helpcontrol me he may deem me not worth the save if he shouldlearn iam a banshee. he moves behind, reaches around cruel handsall over my person stylet pierces a breast that drips blood not silver; agony will certainly worsen. another warning hewhispers to me, fetid breath makes me physically ill ‘don’t pull away or try to fight; this will be painful, better i rape than kill’. i pray to faint as he forcesentry my misery more than terrible he begins to move inside me, atorturenearly unbearable. as he climaxes, i wish icould die ‘seed is planted deep in your womb i, Asmodeus, demon of lust, will deliver my child, in the black marble tomb’. the realization of what his words mean provokes me to wretch, ‘i’ll abort’, i cry, angry response lent truth to his words, ‘kill my child and you are begging to die!’ my scream, its final echo yet lingers, tears from my lips and ends in a wail, exhaustion overwhelms me, i know weeping and keening will bring no avail. my body felt battered by hurtful hands i had aches that i could not explain but the pain that endured deep inside made me wish i had just been slain. i prayed that perhaps if i didn’t conceive he’d go back where he came from and stay but as always, my prayers would remain unanswered; his child is on its way. © tlp 2009