Creativity is not the rose you hold in your hands. It’s the gentle breeze that carries her sweet scent to you.

The memories have been sneaking up on me, trying to push me off the rail.

The crimson splendor running down my shoulder is how my soul will silently wail.

Here I am beneath the moon; her beauty soothes me with her light so pale.

She witnessed your guile and how you conspired when you perceived my heart was frail.

Let it all flow through, out onto the floor.

Running out like the blood of a slaughtered calf on the

sacrificial stone.

There comes a time when you must decide.

Do you find your pleasure in darkness?

Or do you cling to your fears, that hold you in the light?

You will never escape me, you are mine eternal.
Come burn in the soft fire, I am the pleasure you desire.
There is no other in this world or any other.
Give me your life, your blood.
I am the wolf, I am the one you want.

With each breath, he feels the sweet agony

and desperation, his heart pounds faster as his strong

body writhes, dying for her to devour him.

He awakens, his lips moaning her name in the darkness.

She comes in the night, sleek and evil.

Beware of the Night; this beautiful killer,

predator, demon.

She’s waiting to devour your soul and your children.