And there we were the candles flickering over the feast you came at me with a butter knife the edge destined for my throat and then I broke a champagne glass and thrust that jagged glint at you and-
Strange how we both lose, all those twisted mirrors and the beast yet to choose.
Howl and snarl, at least we weren't cowards. A mansion that eats souls, the sepulcher of the shimmering hall devouring all words. And at the last there is at least the fact that we both understand this world.
I'll always remember how candle light made your fangs shine. Your hate too...those eyes. I hope if you win that you will recall the fire in mine. If I win this lethal game I'll surely do the same.
-
When I was young I used to pay attention to the clouds. They play coy at sunset, all on fire, and if you're lucky they'll show you that life is a liar before the constellations prove that-
A few more years. I must still be alive, it wouldn't be so horrible otherwise. A dead man can't make so much of this up. It's too intricate, full of small details. For a few days I was convinced I actually did it, that this was a dimensional echo. Clearly not so. I don't know whether to be sorry or not.