Hail the cunning puckeril,
dearest friend of the Night,
come and succor on my Breath
as we unlock our Daimons’ Light.
Are you shod with cloven hooves,
or are you cloaked in wings?
Perhaps your limbs terminate in claws
or more terrorizing things?
Into the Deep, the Elrich Well we seek the weird-wise potion, to change our skins and ease man’s sins through the writhing of our motion.
In my Vision you shed the shadow
that I have draped you in;
for in this caress I find release
for the longing in my skin.
Your kiss, your bite, the sip of blood
like a nectar for you, Dear.
Pull off the cloak, draw back the hood
and now shall I shed a tear?
For if I weep when you are far will it draw you near instead? I'll light the lamp and catch a star so we may share red wine and bread.