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I thirst for the worlds blood running through the alleyway of vains existing throughout each cities insides, My taste buds clench as a week soul enters my domain, its wounds, its bleeding flesh, the smell comes to my brain, egnologoing the human as my next bloodfilled meal. As it comes I becon the poor tortured creater and force it to approuch me. clueless as it may be, I grab hold of his limp body and slowly, I sink my sharp. shiny, deathly fangs into his chest drnking my fill, when I finish, my mouth is covered in a warm sugary layer of blood. I lick it clean and throw the lifeless body to the side, awaiting its savior as the sun rizes to take him to a near by hospital, letting him live yet another day.

COMMENTS

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wayne
20:19 Aug 23 2008

pleas take me drink you fill of my blood im all youres

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You were once my best friend, someone I could rely on and trust. Since our friendship has ended I no longer have the taste for a career, a life, friendship, or love. I may want these things, but I no longer wish for them.



Hell is not a place of fire, representing in my heart, light or life. It is a place of cold, ash, and darkness. A man may wimper every moment or two but all else is quiet, leaving my broken heart to wilt. My mind is already a metal ball consumed by death. I may think, but only of my state and my non beating heart. Satan, the only creater living in the depths of hell, controlls us all with his over powering soul. He does as he pleases, enjoying the sound of his cracking wip, turning each of us into his followers, his slaves, of heartbrake, humiliation, and sorrow.