Dark path,
hard rain,
stain left by the human press,
on the face of things.
Swollen shadows birth
smears of ink
that hang low--
greedy for blood.
This chase has taken its toll.
My lungs burn,
legs beg for collapse.
Losing focus, gaining ground.
Fear betrays her--
reveals she has what I need.
I choke on my
thirst for answers.
Closing in, dead end.
She begs of me something I can't understand.
Clawing for an escape.
Knives rip at my insides hot bile rises out of me--
scorching throat, tongue, and lips.
Black ichor meets the asphalt,
mixes well with piss and shit.
She turns and screams:
"It's inside you!"
Dark path,
hard rain,
stain left by the human press,
on the face of things.