Lust as a topic never ends.

(Feed the fire, Primadonna!)

Ripe with generous dividends.

(Flames licking, fire tickling.)

Someone always suffers in the end.

(Self-loving, vain, narcissistic fire.)

Betrayed by a would-be friend.

(Her addiction to violence: insufferable!)

A special kind of storm she brews–one to tear and rend

(She won’t stop, can’t stop, GAWD, she loves it!)

For this occasion, she’ll conjure up a love-starved vortex . . . What a pleasant gift to send!

(The witch has made up her mind; someone’s gonna die.)

A ‘demon wind tunnel’ she’ll call it. For a special friend . . .

(Primadonna sorceress: mess her up, and she’ll mess right back!)

She’ll add a touch of fire–her specialty–fire without end.

(Tickle, tickle, the flames will go; when the food’s gone, the flame shall move on.)