Skip to main content
Like
Create new Glog
previous
next
Email share
13 views | 0 likes | 0 reposts
Bite down on your tongue, suckle that for awhile. Ignore the pain, can you taste the color? It raged in Egypt and loved a Countess. It burns when it lands and painted a planet. It explodes on itself and turns to cold. Think of a scab. A lot like that.
Zombies flailing, zombies falling. Burning them, impaling them on a stake. A vampire whisteling as you rush him with a rake. He'll move aside with deft and precision, you won't realized that you missed him until he points and laughs at you on your back, and bends down and points again. Twice more at once. Leaves you. Deads you. Undead you've become.
I’ll suck out your blood (I’ll do it most kind), and trip out on your psychic veins. I’ll take parts of your mind ‘cause most of mine’s been drained. Would you mind, really? You’ll be dead anyway, and won’t it be lovely to sleep all day and hold Night by the reins? But, if you decide that you’d prefer not, then, as a suggestion, do stay clear of those whose breath is how flesh rots and without a picture in a mirror. But if you’re out wandering in Light’s bane, I’d say your situation’s rather dire. That is, if you’re alive and are sane. For I Am the Psychotic Vampire.
