this hole is insatiable
blacker every night
sleep flees through
the cracks in my windowpane

it cannot rain outside
when the thunder is from
within

just before the red
of dawn
bleeds and stains and screams
against the night;

my fingers will be
bleeding and staining and screaming
desperate words
that silence themselves
when my ink is dripping
too much red

magic is not crafted from crimson
yet crimson feeds
the howling wolf when the
moon is too blinding and
the sun too bright

crimson keeps the demons at bay
the wretched hole has had
its fill of daybreak misery;

i feel lightening clawing inside
and i bleed again
all the while it thirsts for more