Nightly Wanderings

Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun
Tells me should start praying to my God
Grab his hand, bring it closer, pressed dead center
Hand goes cold as he holds the gun, nerves frayed
Look him straight in the eyes and ask him, What God?
Nervously sputters nonsense about beliefs lived by
Tell him these eyes haven’t believed in a long time
The Irish being is all but suffocated by a personal hell
Arm goes limp as eyes meet, fear washes over him instantly
A single glimpse within has left another running for life
The pure darkness that lives within, has surfaced again
Seeking its own destruction at every opportunity presenting
The only defense is its total embracement
Forcing it to deal with being needed, driving back down
Eventually retreating to the Black Caves of Sorrow

‘Nother dumb-ass try’s to pull shit, sut sadly only has a blade
Comes from behind thinking upper hand lies with him
Cold steel blade pressed firmly against my throat
Ask him if he believes in more than the physical world
Voice cracks, worried oozes out of him with uncertainty
Force the blade deeper onto my throat and ask again
Nothing comes out of him, so I let him take back his blade
Footsteps running away as the blade hits the ground, black blood

Walking the streets, lights seem to disappear behind me
Nothing but a trail of darkness in my wake with more to come
Cross paths with a beautifully cheerful young woman
Brings me to a dead stop, blatantly staring
All the hate inside momentarily disappears without a trace
Within seconds she’s gone and the wave returns destroying all
Never has anyone held such sway over the beast before

Makes his way back to his study, dark with the glow of a single candle
Books scattered all around, ancient discolored texts
Each containing an unknown language on he can read
He’s returned home, his Black Caves of Sorrow

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