It started in me young. The blood of animals wasn’t enough though. I need more. I have it. It’s mine.
I will make a bed in your blood.
I have become comfortable with the smell of decay. I let the rot embrace me. I have made a home in death.
It has begun and there is no stopping this. There is blood on my hands, and I like it. This marks the beginning of the decent.
Design by Simon Fletcher. Powered by Tumblr.
© Copyright 2010