Fantasy blood

The waters are calling
for armageddon,
I inhabit the earth,
breathe deep,
in and out,
measure the distance
between fantasy and reality.

I write out,
then I bleed,
the ink stained red
with the anger and pain.
The mark of the demon,
etched into my doorframe.

Pleasure landed swiftly
and the black crows discuss
in hushed tones,
the battle of wits
yet to come.

He walked in through
the back door and coughed slightly.
It reminded me of home,
my sighs make the rafters shutter.
I crave a cold chill,
every so often,
when it rains.

- Megan

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