Departing

A thousand shades of that sweet sanguine
which haunted his waking world
which has become little more than a pretty dream
where are you, little bird?
you shouldn't be out this late.
a blur blacker than the hate of the most vengeful
of gods
shining
flies across your path
standing silent, you desparately seek
where?  where was the guidance, the aid in time of need
spoken of a thousand times by a thousand black-robed
men to their crowds on the remorseful wooden benches?
  "Ah yes, and you shall recieve, love, you shall
     recieve.  Just ask."
the cold pierces.
you wonder.
the numb fear motivates you to run
blindly
he speaks to you, that voice smooth and dark, dripping
sweet like blood
        "Run, yes run..."
you stop.  you look, nothing.
entice, incite, excite.
he is there, with you.  face stark pale
then gone
dissolved into dream
you faint
wondering
was he here at all?
face, familiar, cold milk skin
enters your mind

    if this was a dream, it is one
        which has haunted you
           into the waking

-Dazen