Pale Moonlight

Give in to the desires of the flesh,
for we are relentless in our mission to inhabit every first born.

Even as we speak, their flesh is crawling.

Blood bubbles beneath their tender, pure skin.

Their veins wriggle like worms on a hook, while their hands and feet turn ice cold.

Since birth they have heard our beckoned call.

Perhaps that's why they screamed so loudly while exiting the womb.

A battle cry.

The moon has all but blossomed,
as the whores from their birthright swing around the maypole.

Tonight we shall dine.

Then eternal damnation.