rising blood - the original
Your shadow is growing, and hunched, bleak, uncomplete...
Your dreams are all claws, slicing empty air,
maiming and slashing invisible things.
Your nightmares are the same, but there you have the claws...
What you see is what you are.
You live in bleak unending darkness
it cannot call but you hear it.
Greenish lightning splitting space into pockets
Each glowing with its own light
Each with its own picture, sound, 'life'...
Each is the same shadowy color, each a memory of pain.
Each is part of the soul...
With fear of even walls collapsing,
and floor shattered by demons underneath,
and sky with the blinding sun, the sphere of fire,
and all living things, each with its own
tooth, thorn or hate.
Your evil eyes are greenish from feeling nothing,
glass-like from not showing even that.
You fear and hate all that is and could be.