Call It a Comeback

I won't ask one question, just stab my pen in and draw out the ink, nothing will stop my flow with crimson words and chunky verses. The night is dark and streaked with grey. Mist swirls around my ankles like a lovers caress. The moon is up there but hidden a true hunter's nite. I walk my lands enjoying the stillness, ignoring the living, they're just here to distract, not worth my time. Fog rolls in like sheets of sheer fabric, excluding me, cuddling me. I can feel the moisture building up on my skin, slicking down my body hair, smearing the blood coating me. It's trying to cleanse me but it won't, can't allow it, I'm enjoying this too much. This is just my brake from the hunt, a day to let myself grow hollow. I see a silhouette of my castle up on the cliff The grounds below me are finally springing back. My gnarled trees flourishing, the bushes are flowered and spiky, still a bit drab but that's how i like it. Licking the platelets from my fingers I keep moving (just like my quill) gliding across my parchment filling in the blanks with silence too loud to hear, too quiet to resist, ripping into the foundation hard enough to stop civilization, making them wait for what I have to say. Ash falls before my eyes as the masses wait, they don't realize I have nothing to say, I'm just here to stir the cauldron get the juices boiling. Havoc is my creation, my spawn, my lover, the taste that sits in the back of my mouth. Can you hear me screaming in the back of your head, saying the things you dare not think about and leaving that metallic taste in your mouth as your lip bleeds.