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His Blood part 2That chrome blood those glazed eyes the fragrant hairHis Blood part 2
he lays there so elegantly in twisted perfection
as if he had been killed by a god his hand reaching out as if I was going to pity him
the slice on his neck from where my nails cut
the whiteness of his skin gives the clue that his blood is now mine god he’s beautiful he will surely grace the heavens
as he graced my lips with his perfect taste
draining him was a pleasure that I’m gland I got not many taste like him he is one of a kind never as my mouth been filled with such perfect blood the sweet salty bitter
by ~twistedpen6
His Blood part 1The hunt the lust the thirstHis Blood part 1
for him and his blood the want the need the taste
for him and his flesh I will have him I must have him I need him he is what I need to survive
him and his blood will be mine the thirst I have that only his veins can provide the need to feel his flesh upon my lips the want to hear his pain
the lust for him and his blood I want to feel his soul rush out of his body him and his blood will be mine
I make my move I hear his heart slow I see his eyes go white I feel is his flesh I taste his blood I smell his
by ~twistedpen6
twilight suicideThe feel of twilight on his hand his time has come to slowly but it did its work fast the little things in his life seem too big to leave behindtwilight suicide
the blood in his heart hardens till it is ice
no more suffering no more pain only quiet for eternity this is what he looks forward to but fears it to he looks up to the sunrise and falls nothing can stop his falling but the hard floor of hell but the floor never comes
he falls and falls
he hears the voices of the shadows they never stop they will go on forever in his head for you see he never erased the pain
by ~twistedpen6
NevermoreNever more will the writer sign his gallant words Never again will his words change the world to his own demise He sits and waits for his day to die. The ringing of his own tomb parades through his mind, like a virus that has no cure to stop it. The mirror he looks upon is his own soul from which the fires of haven rise. the darkness of his damned soul will find rest with his heart of ice. Can you not see that I'm a mess that I'm dirty he says,Nevermore
but with his last words he falls flat into his grave. Never again will he speak of lighter days.
by ~twistedpen6
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