I drink
upon Dreams.
Guzzling the nectar they provide.
No other sustenance
no food
or drink
will feed this hunger.
No wine
or champagne
will give me the bliss I crave.
I travel into minds
scavenging for the sweet liquid
in the subconscious of the world.
But slowly
I've begun to realize
that I've been drinking another dream
called nightmares.
They are bitter
and poisonous.
Scalding as they go down my throat.
But I have a new addiction.
And no sweet dream
can satisfy my craving.
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoetryWhen my demon decided it wanted out, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only watch as bloodied claws pierced my skin and shadows leaked through my eyes in black teardrops. It wanted out, and I was content to let it roam. >>>&g...
