If every vampire who said he was at the Crucifixion was actually there, it would have been like Woodstock.
We are two shadows on the bank of Styx
Where always blows a wind of million spikes.
We see each other, but we cannot speak.
No snowflakes, no Sun. It's just the ice.

Black water whispers flowing through the brinks
Or I'm hallucinating, hearing lies.
We drink this water; nothing else to drink.
It gives the shades to your transparent eyes.

And struggling to return my real ways,
To drive away this winter prison tricks,
No matter what the freezing river says,
I'm building us a home with icy bricks.

The Hell is empty, left no guards to keep.
We kiss each other with unfleshy lips.

@темы: Poems, william the bloody