12 May 2012
Heading down the lonely road at the break of dawn. Driving as fast as I can away from the coming storm.
Chased by the streetlights, overtaking me, as the natural light takes hold. As foretold, a sign that my time of foraging is at it's end.
I must head back to my dark place, to descend to hibernation and in another half-revelation, return again when the face of the sun drops...
Just like the blood on my fangs from this passing nights fill.
Feeding Time Is Over • Opuss № I