A Spectre came,
rousing the person lodging in my nogging.
He beckoned my tenant,
who sighed to berate his tyrant.
But then he marveled,
wanting nothing more than to reach out
and leave his room of logic,
to seek madness from his shell, for magic.
His latent desire,
an escapade with a spirit not right,
stumbled in with sensations to rekindle
the romance his pragmatics lack.
So he skips out, my savvy.
Hand in hand with his new-found cherie
to tumble bareback and far from all distraction
never to return, lost in the wind of passion.
Then he returns,
crawling back to me every night.
seeking refuge where it’s right
his winded shrieks give me fright
Battered by the cold
searching for a whole.
Begging for the shell he damned
yet hoping his feeling comes around.
I wait in the night
wait for the spectre to come for his right
for the tenant to run from his true light
for love to come calling for the night.