He is thick night,
Earth-dark.
He crawls, whimpers, scratch,
He bites at my throat,
In frightening dreams and out,
A thrill to hear me scream,
Heart beats faster, pushes him over.
He is the cold that creeps up my toes;
The broken, ****** fingers feeling me;
The cracked lips scraping against my neck,
As his silver fangs scratches my vein.
He was the straight jacket,
Reassuring my insanity.
Can I please him?
Can I scream that high,
Scream till I give him goosebumps?
Scream till he begs me to stop.
I'll make him writhe,
Make his toes curl,
Make him buck and grind.
Can he scream my name?
Can he please me and my dark desire?
I'll run my burnt nails along his thigh,
I command him,
The King Disaster.
For he is mine,
My fear,
My fear that makes my heart race to ecstasy.
I'll make him feel all night,
Before the cold,
Before he returns to your world and the...
Fright, screams, the cold and dark dreams.
I fear he must go,
And I must await its return,
He is it, not a he,
Fear is a thing, a wild thing.
He is fear,
And I,
I am fear's master.
                                -MoonFirefly