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The Bird of Hermes is my name

Eat my wings to keep me tame



From the bodies blood is shed

Soon the ghouls become undead

The Bird of Hermes comes soon

Not morning, evening or afternoon

The Bird of Hermes feeds on fright

Soon blood shall stain the night

The Bird of Hermes will devour

His enemies at midnight hour



The Bird of Hermes is my name

Eat my wings to keep me tame



The night shall soon be stained with red

You and your army lay bleeding and dead

Your bodies shall rise soon

And join The Bird’s platoon

You shall learn to live in night

You ghouls are made to fight

The stench of blood is ever sour

The Bird’s enemies shall cower



The Bird of Hermes is my name

Eat my wings to keep me tame

Standing before you,

Naked, but unaware,

Body trembling with every breath,

I await your approach.



Embracing you in ecstasy,

Our energies ascend in

A feverish rapture,

As themoon illuminates our silhouettes through lace curtains.



You pull away,

Leaving me listless,

Writhing in agony on the floor as my essence seeps through

My skin into you,



My sweet, emotional vampire,



Who leaves me in anguish,

Tormented until our next encounter when

I will stand before you, naked,

Waiting to be drained again.

Take my hand, my love, and look

beyond the feral redness of my eyes.

Ignore the black and empty void

where once a soul reclined,

and swirling whirlpools of a manic mind

crave for your sustenance.



Allow this taloned claw

to mold around your tender breast

teasing the nipple and

caressing the moistness of

your secret places

into a limpid languidness.



Permit these canine teeth

to brush against your silken hair

and settle on the softness of

your neck where dwells

your throbbing life blood

pulsing and acquiescent.



See how it gushes at the urging

of my loving bite flowing like

pretty ribbons through my veins

to join me at the center of my being

where my aged and aching heart

rejoices in renewal.

A lily in a twilight place?

A moonflow’r in the lonely night?—

Strange beauty of a woman’s face

Of wildflow’r-white!



The rain that hangs a star’s green ray

Slim on a leaf-point’s restlessness,

Is not so glimmering green and gray

As was her dress.



I drew her dark hair from her eyes,

And in their deeps beheld a while

Such shadowy moonlight as the skies

Of Hell may smile.



She held her mouth up redly wan,

And burning cold,—I bent and kissed

Such rosy snow as some wild dawn

Makes of a mist.



God shall not take from me that hour,

When round my neck her white arms clung!

When ‘neath my lips, like some fierce flower,

Her white throat swung!



Or words she murmured while she leaned!

Witch-words, she holds me softly by,—

The spell that binds me to a fiend

Until I die.