~The Wolf~

My sweet lamb listen for me in the night.
I am always near but never quite in sight.

Whenever the wind blows and the moon is high.
Listen for the faint sound of my baying cry.

Searching for your scent.
Longing to be at your side.

The wolf is ravenous, he must feed.
Hunger consumes me, a desire I must heed.

Fangs bared, the wolf does not plead.
My beautiful lamb, exactly what I need.

The lady's throat so pale and so fair.
So exposed, so naked and bare.

It is the wolf's teeth that the lamb welcomes there.
She tells him to approach with her inviting stare.

Frozen in place when she should beware,
Under his spell, nature ensures the game is not fair.

Now lay back, welcome my teeth.
At long last, my jaws offering merciful relief.

It is the sweet ecstasy of bliss that they bequeath.

~Billy

Would you give your throat to the wolf with red roses?

~On the feeding of wolves~

The lamb senses the wolf's approach.
She knows that she must run.

Escape.

The lamb, unmoving, stands transfixed as he draws near.
She is captivated.

Entranced.

The lamb does not run.
She feels so very alive.

Enchanted.

The lamb knows the wolf is almost upon her.
She marvels at his fangs.

Enticing.

The lamb does not wish to run.
She instead offers her throat.

Enraptured.

The lamb stands so very still.
She feels his teeth on her now.

Eviscerating.

The lamb falls to her knees as she is taken.
She feels pleasure, interlaced with pain.

Ecstasy.

The lamb's sight fades to black.
She has fallen victim to the wolf's savage attack.

And so the wolf is fed,
And so the lamb is bled,
And so the ground is once more stained red.

Yet every lamb would risk a halo around her head...
If she could just one time; in such a way be bled.

The end.

~Billy

~Vampire~

An exquisitely young and lovely girl.
Lain on her back before me, her life unfurled.
Silken hair askew in a spiral swirl.

Her hand dangling from the altar, skin pale as a bone.
Fingers slowly open, the contents of her hand now shown.
Flower drifting to the floor, it's final flight flown.

Shadows slowly crawling across the floor.
Moonlight gradually retreating from the door.
The time is now a quarter past four.

Cold winter air.
Wind whipping at my long flowing hair.
So it is that i gaze upon my lair.

Another night hunting spent.
Blood enough drank to pay yet another day's rent.
From this life there is no repent.

Yet another lovely maiden lain dead.
Once more the guilt echoing through my head.
Already i feel a new hunger that will soon need to be fed.

Vampire is the name by which i go.
Heartless creature, cold as January snow.
I live but i am not alive, hell is all i know.

Retreating to my tomb i must sleep, close my eyes.
Tormented until sunset by my victim's cries.
My makers promises...nothing but lies.

~Billy