I live in night’s murky caves, blanketed by gray fog, not acquainted with morning and dew. I have no courage to face the light because I’m not like all of you. I’m obsessed by red. The river-flooding red that smells like fresh fish.
I hungerfor Blood.
I am the black buterfly with velvet wings, flying into tunnels, sucked up into the night’s vortex. She doesn’t know my pain, my moan, my desire. She closes all windows to shun me, who creeps in thirst.
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