The succubus is often more glad than us

An intriguing notion was the succubus

Who took the guilt off night sex from us.

Men were  all innocent

But the succubus was intent

On arousing their organ with  her tremulus.

It never seemed to be clear we are  beasts

Imbued with reproductive pursuits.

So we all got hysteria,

Trying to be superior.

Men are all horny,at least.

I understand women’s fear of an incubus

Who  excited himself to  have sex with us.

Wish fulfilment  makes us cheerful

And being loveless is tearful.

Yet a   beloved human man is the best for us.

I suppose these are projections of  our badness

Into other beings  more glad than us.

We criticise in others

All our  crimes,sins and bothers

Then they become even more sad than us.