[Inspired by Dracula]
Lying awake at one in the morning,
The only thing thought of is blood,
Blood rushing through veins,
Blood causing much heat,
Blood inspiring friction.
Blood comes from the heart,
It comes toward the heart.
But it could come from other places
As well, at the thought of certain people,
The want of certain things,
The disdain of certain things.
But never from the indifference
Towards certain things.
At one o'clock in the morning,
The air swirls with a mist caused by
The pumping blood. Almost like a dream,
But not quite...
Until waking up six or seven hours later
With a feeling of elatedness that could not
Have been a dream
But that could not have been real as well.
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