To understand this poem, you'd likely want to read Section 3 for my vampire novel. This is going to be the beginning of Section 4 for it. sun streaming through this open window with the light hurting such tender eyes weak from pains I can't even describe I heave myself out of bed and go to pull the shade squinting, I jerk the window blind down when my bared right arm swims into view stains cover it in assorted hue some are dark, almost black; others brown dried; some spots fade frozen in my tracks, let me think back where was I last night? I can't recall damn this dull ache throbbing in my skull blotting out all faculty to grasp a simple thought pivot to return to my soft bed where I can close these lids, rest some more likely another stupid dream...sure makes a great deal more sense to my head than all of this the weird scene before my eyes surprise can't begin to detail what they meet what they see, shock won't even compete the floor, walls, sheets...nothing coul...
Everything is open to the winds of chance.