Blood In the Air (Part 1)
Everything glistens
like being sprayed with lacquer,
the rain has stopped,
but clouds
still hide the moon
making the darkness
so complete
that it's hard to tell
where it ends
and I begin.
My thoughts
are nonexistent tonite
for it's all
about the hunt,
stalking in the night,
waiting
to pick up the right scent,
seeking
that which I thirst for,
feeling the flesh
separate from the bone.
Settling into
a nice dark alcove
I extend
smokey tendrils,
feeling their way
into your
safe little homes,
looking for
a tasty morsel
to sink my teeth into.
Vibrations
race back
along one of my
sinister strands
and in the time
it takes to think it
I'm there.
I can smell
your sweet,
almost musky
perfume
wafting through the room
and underneath,
deep,
almost as if trying to hide,
(from me)
I can sense
your scent
pulling at me,
teasing my nostrils,
clawing at my hunger.
I dive through the shadows,
finding one
on the left corner
at the beginning of the hall,
I watch you pass
and lash out
with one clawed finger,
slashing open your tricep
on your left arm.
You spin
around
as the last smokey ness
of my arm
dissipates,
leaving nothing to see,
to the shade
under the closet door
on your right.
With a casual
drag of my claw
I rip open your ankle
severing your Achilles heel,
you scream
sending tremors
across the floor
from the power of it.
Time for more fun!
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2008
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