A Toxic Spirit like HIV in Me
An incubus or succubus is in
My chest—too hard to tell if it is male
Or female. It injects a mix of sin
And sexuality. My heart is frail
With stupid love and so it takes the dose
As if it were prescribed for endless joy.
That spirit senses triumph, moves in close
And whispers, “Trust me now. I will not toy
With precious things inside you if you give
Your hopes to me.” I yield. The fiend receives
The faith that it desires and makes me live
In blind affection. Later my soul grieves.
A devil can’t acknowledge wrong. Its brew
Has made it drunk before infecting you.