The Influence of Lust

With padded feet from out his own dark den
Comes smiling Lust, once fair and hard to
please,
But now long overworked with dabbling men,
Who cry, "We've tasted this and tired of these.'
Pausing in doubt, suspecting some defence,
He stares with eyes blue-lidded, at the Shape,
Then stooping, whispers low of innocence,
Of waiting chastity and sweetest rape.
With hairless hands awave, lisps reeking tales
'Mid smothered sighs, acquivering the while
he sees a horrored frown and fears he fails,
But smiling much whene'er he sees a smile.
Then pressing, 'Flesh is this, they needed food,'
And, 'Flesh is warmest in its stolen blood.'