maxmayhem

The woe of the Paladin. As I look upon the crescent up in the night sky, I feel the tender touch of the moonlight, I cry as I unveil to myself the revelations of evil past, And I look down to my bloody hands, That have been stained by murders countless. I feel death draw nearer, And as it does, I feel the earth beneath my feel grow cold. My bare feet. I walk into the river, And feel the waters close up around me, The waters feeling like my sins committed. The deep sensation of being lost. I walk into the forest, And I look upon the trees. Standing alone, yet in unity. And I look deep inside, Seeing my will shredded into diff

A vampire, a soul. The two can never be one. They lie in complete opposition to one another, always in turmoil and conflict. They collide, the dance ghastly, with carnage in it’s wake. Carnage so apocalyptic, they leave the bearer of both traits weary at first, but the post events usually end in a being completely wasted and broken. Thus was the inner torment of one being: Lazamar. He stood in the open window, with a glass of his favorite wine, (a tinge of blood from his lips from last night’s…. kill? No. sacrifice.) He stood there, looking down at the populace of the busy city. Manhattan was his home, living high atop at the