Drizzle honey as you foam at the mouth at some conundrum, perplexed and fulfilled from the last time you went south.
Bedraggled with the wisdom of age, cage and displayed in a place you can’t fade.
Forever flicking like a raging light, a tower of night through the curtains of moonlight fights where the wolves prowl to bite.
Kisstory of a mythical vampire who drams all clear.
It’s not him you should fear it’s those much, much closer dear.
© G.P Williamson 2018