Sleeping softly in the back of the mind, the demon lulls it's host. The power inside tempts the flesh. Beckons the thoughts to answer a deep calling. The demon wants to be accepted. It wishes to please. Through time and practice, trust is earned. The token held in the mind is spent on the simple desires in life. The demon knows well the expectations of others. It lies, it deceives. The sadistic feeling they enlist in the intentions of the host is unreal. With sweeping pains the bloods through the heart. An emulsion of strength wrapped in puppetry. They control from the farthest whispers of the subconsciousness, eventually forcing their voices into the foreground of the host.
Simple sensations abound, the slick wet skin touches cold hair. Power is in the host's fingers. The darkness takes them. The soul is almost there. The preparation complete, the goal in sight.
Tonight they will dine together. The blood has been quenched, sated. The acceptance has been made. The demon and host are one. The conflict is over.
Virgil Allen Moore
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