Philip Daniel Cook

Nightmare Blood

My malice wings stalk in declaration of your bite.

And in their heat they shall disarm your guns.

I\'ll face the consequence of trust and honor were a part of your catalog.

I suppose some stars are meant to burn black, and turn

into hell. 

But mine forever runs white.

 

Time may tell this tale.

In this nightmare blood.

 

I\'ll drink your cup of hate 

if you share your rather ordinary story 

of all your loss.

 

I suppose triggering my heart that doesn\'t beat is

the same penance as yours when it comes

to hate, and revenge.

 

I\'ll splinter to you, if that makes you

more or less of what you do unto

others.

What you do unto one another.

 

In my faith I believe but the cracks

in the book don\'t mark history.

I could easily be a monk among the

thieves that are worshiped by the fool!

But I\'ll fly by my vanguard.

And sit among the books of the valor ones.

 

My half-breed children are not born from scorn

but from the dark side of the moon.

 

I\'ll escape in my confidence of the last thorn was my own.

The utopia was the thistle in the rose.

And serenity and serendipity took the world at storm and agape the dreams of

the lost children of the crypt closed.

Her valor was the stake she follow

through with her

own half spite.

His heart heavy 

as heaven reach 

can you help lock

up all the secrets here?

 

My world is not as plain as can be,

underneath all you see is a truth

you can only discover if you

fall deep and hard into voids

within voids. And catch the space

between space between.

 

My nightmare blood can only....

spell a thousand stories 

bent in her

after image.