Goodnight, Milady.sleep well,and dream sweet.or by my word,I will slaythine mares of nightWhere they riseand where stand,there too,they shall fall!There too,shall be theirfinal place of rest.
ObserverThey had ventured deeper and deeper still. The men had not spoken many words,but they had made quite a few gasps and excited shouts. When they did speakit was in the hushed exhilarated tones of those too reverent in the face ofthe situation to shout, but to overwhelmed to simply speak.I observed them, felt their warmth like beacons in the darkest night.I smelled the blood in their veins, it's metallic tang heavy in the air.Even still, the beating of their hearts was deafening. I was surprised Icould do anything but listen to the rhythmic pumping, in contrast to thestillness that had held me captive for so long, it was as though it setthe very air aflame with the vibrant pulse of life.It was like the essence of ecstasy itself, addictive, sultry and supple.It saddened me to know that I was going to end it. This that I craved so,that I had waited for, for so long, I would put an end to my own pleasure.All would be cold again, their blood would dry and grow stale, even thiswo
DelvingWe had hoped the inside of the ruins would have been cooler than theharsh air outside. They were not. In vain, he had recklessly wished forthem to at least be damp with rot, anything but the arid of the desert winds.When the ancient doors swung open they were met by what seemed to bethe deserts very breath. Devoid of all life to such an extent that itfelt as if death itself was leaving the depths, fearing for his life.If we had known how right my first impression was, that what was lurkingbeneath the sands was older than Sand itself... we might have turned back.Then again, it's just as likely that we would have not, we were foolish,idiotic and adventurous. It is just as likely that it would have spurredus on, damned be curiosity and human greed, for both knowledge and wealth.Whatever the case could have been, this was what it was. We ventured downinto the dark, our lanterns lit within moments. We had anticipated this,if shone directly at someone unsuspecting, it would have
ReflectionA hooded figurefar from the "Robin"in tales of old(but then againthey say he woreLincoln Green and wasof forest wrought.)No, this onewas a menacingsight to see(but who's leftto tell that talewhen there's only deathleft in his wake.)He walked pasta hairs-breadth awayleaving breath like a stain(pulling the hood backas the vapor fadesfrom within the mirrormy gaze stared back)
AwestruckThe mesmerizingundying touchof times passinghas me hypnotizedThe slow progressionof sudden decayis predictabilityin and of itselfTomorrow killstoday executesand yesterdayburies the victimsYou never needto dig very deepif you're searchingfor fresh corpses.
Tomorrow, it's been a yearNew year's eveis nothing, you seein reality, every daysets a year ablaze.A year since the daylast us passed.A year until that dayonce again comesto go away.But I pretendand celebrate anyway,but now you knowhow it is to me.New year's dayis just another tomorrow.Just like todaywas the day beforea whole new dawn.