I like yellow. All vampires like yellow. Reminds us of the sun we never see. Oh, I know some peek out during the last moments of twilight. See the sky all orange and red and blue. But the sun's not there, so that don't count. Everything looks cold and gray and dark. Of course we have candles and oil lamps and bon fires, some fueled by human flesh, but nothing like your time. Voices tell me things. I hear them. Most times the words are unfamiliar. you should know that right now I speak Latin. Apparently some wizardry in your time transforms them into that German-Latin-Gallic bastard tongue you speak..... But I like yellow.... And now it's all around me. Can't see it, but I know it's there. Snuck into a chicken hatchery out beyond the walls. Filthy place. Stinks too. But they have the cutest, little chickies. I feel them swarm all over me in the dark. They comfort me...so soft... so new... so trusting.
Baby Nesso was like that.... And in many ways he still is. Only now you'd have to dribble a little fiendishness into the mix. and I can't leave him there that way. It will be difficult, but i'll steal him. I take him and I'll put him somewhere. I'll sit him in a nest....a nice place... a soft place... maybe like this... maybe with chickies and he'll play with them. He'll gently pat them and talk to them. But who am I kidding? He'll do that for maybe three hundred heartbeats and then he'll crush them and eat them... not the flesh...never the flesh... just the blood. ... Only no more babies. I can't let him do that to the babies.... Perhaps a bit of my mortal, Celt-Iberian self still survives?
The clan doesn't want him back, you know. They like the legend and the excuse it gives them to kill 'enemies.' none of them knew him. three generations he's been gone...maybe more. All that time... Imagine, sitting in a dark, forgotten crypt amid the cold, drained bodies of babies. they're like toys to him. He gurgles and smiles and coos. and I've never seen anything quite as frightful in my life.
Aw, look. they're dead now. some of them are dead now. I've rolled over on them. Poor little peep-peeps... poor little chickies. Their mamas are all upset. Hens can make such a racket, you know, especially when they mourn. Don't want the chicken-man to come in, 'cause then I'll have to 'roll over' on him too. Vampires 'roll over' on a lot of people.
I've had a premonition, or maybe someone from your time whispered something. Rome will fall. no more emperors. No more columns. No more marble. No more whores... Well, not Imperial Roman whores. And vampires will bring it down. Not intentionally. These things never happen according to plan...
Oh, crap! The chicken-man's coming. Now I gotta get up and kill the shit outta him real good.. Makes him the third one tonight. Bad luck. hope there ain't no 'chicken-man's wife haulin' up the rear, or I gotta do something about her too.
Yeechh, these chicks are getting sticky....
(more next time)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
see more at ~> THIS PLACE ... join me on TWITTER at~> @wilkravitz ... please leave COMMENTS... good night.
Baby Nesso was like that.... And in many ways he still is. Only now you'd have to dribble a little fiendishness into the mix. and I can't leave him there that way. It will be difficult, but i'll steal him. I take him and I'll put him somewhere. I'll sit him in a nest....a nice place... a soft place... maybe like this... maybe with chickies and he'll play with them. He'll gently pat them and talk to them. But who am I kidding? He'll do that for maybe three hundred heartbeats and then he'll crush them and eat them... not the flesh...never the flesh... just the blood. ... Only no more babies. I can't let him do that to the babies.... Perhaps a bit of my mortal, Celt-Iberian self still survives?
The clan doesn't want him back, you know. They like the legend and the excuse it gives them to kill 'enemies.' none of them knew him. three generations he's been gone...maybe more. All that time... Imagine, sitting in a dark, forgotten crypt amid the cold, drained bodies of babies. they're like toys to him. He gurgles and smiles and coos. and I've never seen anything quite as frightful in my life.
Aw, look. they're dead now. some of them are dead now. I've rolled over on them. Poor little peep-peeps... poor little chickies. Their mamas are all upset. Hens can make such a racket, you know, especially when they mourn. Don't want the chicken-man to come in, 'cause then I'll have to 'roll over' on him too. Vampires 'roll over' on a lot of people.
I've had a premonition, or maybe someone from your time whispered something. Rome will fall. no more emperors. No more columns. No more marble. No more whores... Well, not Imperial Roman whores. And vampires will bring it down. Not intentionally. These things never happen according to plan...
Oh, crap! The chicken-man's coming. Now I gotta get up and kill the shit outta him real good.. Makes him the third one tonight. Bad luck. hope there ain't no 'chicken-man's wife haulin' up the rear, or I gotta do something about her too.
Yeechh, these chicks are getting sticky....
(more next time)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
see more at ~> THIS PLACE ... join me on TWITTER at~> @wilkravitz ... please leave COMMENTS... good night.
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