Blissful night of death.
Watching the blood run thick, wet.
As rats start their feast.
Stains upon my eyes.
More stains, worse, upon my soul.
And do I care? No.
Tell me why should I?
Is it not my true nature?
Am I not to live?
Ha! But I am wind.
So you see, there is no harm.
You only die once.
I fear not prison.
I have no fear of gallows.
They must catch me first.
And that, they will not.
I exist within shadows,
for I am the night.
The night is for death.
The perfect time for dying
and my enjoyment.
The prey is willing
or they would not be out here.
They love a good hunt.
And hunters, they are.
They hunt the weak and infirm.
And I? I hunt them!
Is it not as grand
a profession as gambling?
When they are alike.
A toss of the dice,
a decision to walk here.
A gamble on death.
Such as you just made.
But the house will always win.
Now, let us begin.
Halloween offering for Oct. 9th
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 7:19 PM UTC
Blissful night of death.
Watching the blood run thick, wet.
As rats start their feast.
Stains upon my eyes.
More stains, worse, upon my soul.
And do I care? No.
Tell me why should I?
Is it not my true nature?
Am I not to live?
Ha! But I am wind.
So you see, there is no harm.
You only die once.
I fear not prison.
I have no fear of gallows.
They must catch me first.
And that, they will not.
I exist within shadows,
for I am the night.
The night is for death.
The perfect time for dying
and my enjoyment.
The prey is willing
or they would not be out here.
They love a good hunt.
And hunters, they are.
They hunt the weak and infirm.
And I? I hunt them!
Is it not as grand
a profession as gambling?
When they are alike.
A toss of the dice,
a decision to walk here.
A gamble on death.
Such as you just made.
But the house will always win.
Now, let us begin.
Halloween offering for Oct. 9th
Request permission to use this poem