THE WALK OF THIRST - STORY POETICALLY SPLASHED

A normal walk 
one foot in front of its companion
dogs leaping from grass to pot holed craters
except as i turned the crescent corner
a strange mist slipped between the boney hedges
spilling across the frozen tar river,rising into stricken naked winter trees

now i was plunged into a B Movie horror scene
i expected a coach and horses to be racing behind me
and for a buxom wench carrying a woven basket to appear
but just the static mist silent in its approach and reproach 
suddenly the dogs bolted heading like rockets back in homes safe direction
now alone dressed in a winter fog

a voice drifted in some long forgotten tune
moist crimson red warm fluid trickled ,dripped
forming small sticky lakes ,
sinning sexual sensations spiraling ejaculations
trembling stinging sordid desperations
all fighting inside this trance
this robotic submission to my frosted assailant

now im obsessed and live in the basement of my ancestors castle
​​​​​​​or rather the disused   coal shed at number 46
i feast at nights demand,
steer clear of drunks as hangovers wreck a days rest
and im quite proud in being the only bearded vampire North of London

​​​​​​​in fact im now a right bleeder