Mistress of Mirage
By susanne
The vixen stands in water deep as she casts her net over sunbaked sands determined to snare the heart of a man She licks her wet lips ginger berry spun this vision of beauty in the eye of the sun Yet evil her purpose and wicked her plans Acquisition of the soul in the palm of her hands With feverous pitch she chants her sirens song a beacon to the throng of tongue parched nomads who heed her call Burnished faces make way to her oasis through searing sun walk crawl or run gather they to her one by one Eager to taste of her intoxicating elixir and to gaze in hypnotic haze at this mistress of their daze Her ample bosom spills forth from finger laced frock As ravens hair long hung touch pink buds erect whilst they assail themselves to the sun Wander lust portrays in suited disguise rapturous incantations in the violet of her eyes Drowned in their desire by the Mistress of Mirage to live in sanskrit fantasy where egos are massaged Woe to the men unable to flee chained to the illusion that a Goddess she be This Jezebel with skin so fair reveals her magical charms and draws neigh the hearts of vulnerable men though vilipend they be Token sacrifices Upon the alter of She Written April 5th, 2002 © on Apr 05 2002 12:46 AM PST 10 • 0
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"The vixen stands in water deep..."