Dating a Succubus

She dresses in a lavender magical love potion,
Its fragrances deludes my dreamy raving mind,
Rings, necklaces, and bracelets glowing around,
Her black vivid eyes dart into my trembling heart,
Golden silky garments in many lines and curves,
The relic she now closes and my senses are back,
Fear strangles my palpitating heart into a knot,
Her snaky smirk hisses its tongue into my ears,
What she wants – what she asks is something
That goes against the morals of being a human,
She takes out her spidery black hands and goes
For my heart, for my throat, and my naïve eyes.


Tangible Relationships

I needed something tangible
That would place the fished
Heart back to its sea, and from
Five to seven I figured it out,
Something logical about the
Causation of interpersonal
Relationship, which can be
Imitated into plurality and
Defined beyond the hours of
A person’s watch walking down
The streets of the city centre –
As if, instead of the two arms,
There were six residing within
The five to seven notion of
Something extremely tangible,
And before I even reach a
Somewhat factual conclusion,
One might wonder about the
Plurality above the second
Person: is that really possible?
Whether the disagreement
Entails the loss of a major
Relationship depends on,
I guess, the openness that
She or he would gather from
Their limitless surroundings,
But generally speaking, (if
You are still following) the
Majority accepts the other
Without entanglements,
Disorder, complications per se,
Although, I am intrigued by
Those who accept it without
Negative connotations, and
As for me, I am in between,
Like there is always moderation,
But let us move on to the
Duration (something I really
Fancy), well, it is an important
Status between partners,
And I believe, the expectations
Should match otherwise the
Fished heart will just drown
In the suffocating air open
To all passers-by, and since
Five to seven is just two
Entities apart – hours,
Minutes, days, weeks –
Whether the two (or more)
Disagree or agree will
Always solve the problem
Of waiting another entity –
Hour, minute, day, week –
And now I reach a dense
Conclusion about persons
Who wish to begin something
On the lines of a relationship:
Open your eyes and go for it.

Read Between the Lines

A chronicler dwells in clear waters,
Just on the outskirts of a red post,
The prison, to which many others
Have escaped, is now left behind
To crumble before emerald trees,
Maps drawn to find this treasure,
But a compass might fail to work
Over here next to the nine paths,
The legend might just be a myth,
But to me, you only have to heed,
There is this man who disappeared
Behind the shadows of two sisters
That resided the crumbling prison,
So, avoid the chronicler that dwells
In clear waters for your own sake,
Find those who escaped and set
Them free from this awfully chaotic
World that is deemed to fall in the
Wrong hands like that of the sisters,
But love the rituals in the legend,
Sketched out of suns and moons,
Sending the star back to the post.