My Muse has fangs.



She is stalking me, on stocking feet. Tippy toes, claws out. Blood drips in the corners of her red red mouth.

I am spinning. Twirling like a six year old on a sugar fix. Hungry for the tangy taste of her mouth on my own.

Her skin is cold. Her breath is fire. Her attention, is devine inspiration. I am infatuated. I am seduced.

I am right where I want to be.

2004-12-21 9:07 p.m.