Wraithborn - Heart Feast

Weeks I’ve spent here,
pages after pages read.
The words within tell me nothing now
but nonsense.

Characters of unknown alphabets
litter parchment.
No longer can I read this scripture’s nonsense.

Turning once more,
I view some scratch
that’s legible.
Before me,
“He Is Coming.”
is written out in
pitch black ink.

These words were not here yesterday,
nor were they here the day before.
I grab my bone knife
and I hide in the shadows.

Gates,
clanking open…
footsteps…

A white hot crucifix,
pierces into my back.
I fall to the floor as I turn and face the attacker. A hooded priest.

Priest: In the name of the Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of Mary—-.

Bastien: “No!” I scream,
and pull the cross from in my back,
throw it in his face and make a grab for my blade.

He falls atop me
Screaming more Christian nonsense,
lies about the Archangel Michael.
I stab him in the throat.
I rip incessantly.

Hunger.
Anger.
I sense the urge to feed.
This is freshest blood.
Before me, purest heart feast.

As I tear,
and I tear,
and I gnaw,
gurgling shrieks
burst from the clergyman.

Have I got so completely insane
to accept that I’ll eat live human meat?
I cannot help myself
as my thoughts are riddled
with regret and pleasure.

Oh, by god,
what have I done again?
A man of Christ has died by my hand,
by tooth and claw.

I feel a touch of regret,
I feel a touch of pride.
I feel a touch of psychosis,
creeping up my spine.

Sleep.
I must sleep,
and get this off my mind.