Considering some scribbling to figure everything out, I expect to either be entirely burnt by this fire,
or to be defined by it. Whatever it is.

It burns. Love, anger, passion-
what is in this heart, old and black?
as I lay in this, my heath of images-
all warping and swirling above my bed,

and death haunts and linger in the corner of my eye,
and I realise large parts of my lie,
and I am cold to the bone,
fattening like a pig by the day,

I shall be as poe, dying slowly day by day -
amongst the red red roses, lank hair and morbid tone.
Synthetic whisper in the woodland greet,
I ran, I could not stop, meek to the core.

Entombed in happiness, quiet and forever unspoken
she lets me down, she will never cease.

I am Vampyre, and so is she.
soon to be-
******,
Eternally.