Dreaming of Buffy
Brian - September 1, 2003
In my dark world, I have a dream.
A dream of a blonde girl.
She is all that I can see, for darkness is all round.
I live in darkness: I am the darkness.
She is the only light.
She dances, and her motion sparks beams of light into the darkness,
Each beam seems to tell an ancient story:
A story of tooth and fang,
The dark lady of my lost eternity.
Blood pounding in the chase,
Cruel laugh and cruel hunger,
Blood pouring from the hunt.
I howl my madness in the midnight air.
I howl in triumph, but I taste only despair.
I am lost in the darkness; I am the darkness.
She moves towards me, touching me
And where she touches, my lips, my eyes, my face, my neck, my chest
I feel cool comfort,
Soft energy that is a caress across my soul.
My soul in the darkness: I am the darkness.
I reach for her in the darkness,
But she slides through my fingers like quicksilver.
She smiles at her conquest,
And if I could bow, I would.
If I could hope, I would.
But my salvation is past,
And I must reap only the reward of darkness: I am the darkness.
If I could see my face,
I would imagine my smile,
My dark smile made bright
By the comfort of my sacrifice,
My surrender to the darkness; I am the darkness.
But my dark dream of the blonde girl abruptly ends,
And I wake to screaming, blinding whiteness,
And an old friend.
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