what name belongs
to the essence of the night
that has seeped into the arteries
of the blasphemers –

crept into my fingers
there’s a price upon your head
don’t sit in my throat,
choke me with your vision

I want to see the world from your eyes

empty my heart and fill it anew
with the perspective you have
of your hometown,
of your repressed soul,

you tracked me down to the furthest reaches
do I call it flattery or fate?
but a ghost does not leave a trail;

the mists are your brush fire
setting alight the witches
that could not understand your reasoning

you waited for one hand
took only one glance
bated breath as we faded away
and I never even knew you,
but you knew me –

and it left you with a sense of power
that you called ‘friendship’
that I called ‘domination’
maybe I just prefer being under
the thumb you think you don’t have

steps taken to ensure I would remember you
even though you don’t want to be
tell me you mean nothing to the world
and I will show you the growling entity
you have manifested inside my chest

and then tell me
tell me again
that there is no purpose to your body
served to my monsters
licked clean by my mind.