blood that was to thin, a faint scream pounding off into the distance, a chorus rising from the depths of his flesh, as I close my eyes I sit on a throne of of bloodied emotion pulsing through the room in which my throne rest's a weary eye that devours the plain ill intent of this man wishes, dreams, desire's, past, present, and future. As I look up to see the eye of ill intent it shudder's as it devours one of the present which feels all the more soothing in my stomach. an eternity could be considered in the weighing and devouring of ones soul, but as I open my eyes and see her running towards me still screaming, filled with terror at the sight of my vision of youth, and all I can say is "it's a beautiful night, human"