The throne of blood

Oh well, I am back. Where did I go? Have I really returned?

"I am home!" I sent out a couple of messages.

"Good for you," was the response.

Yes, good for me. Good for everyone. For lives I have tainted and lives I have left untouched.

Have you ever felt your blood ache? No, of course not. You are normal. Your wounds hurt, your bones pain, your eyes cry. Your blood only courses through your veins and pumps your heart, every beat of it a boon of liquid red.

My blood aches. And when it does, it gushes forth from every orifice or it congeals so hard that I need a hammer to break through it.

I reach its centre...a hollow greets me. The ache is a shell. An empty shell.

Oh, how could I forget? The year has just begun. I am sure it will bring wonders to all of you, to all of us...I must say nice things, lovely things, smell the roses, cover myself in satin sheets...okay, for the sake of tradition I touched a rose. It was a yesterday rose, so it drooped. I ate a petal. Happy?

Then I looked for a satin sheet and covered myself. I spotted blood. Happy?

The sheet aches. Blood is a good teacher.

I am a bad student of blood. I sit by its side and draw out a map where there are no roads. It is a map to tell me that there are places but no space. My throat constricts. I rush to cough out pleghm.

A globule of blood comes along. For that moment I begin to feel its pain. It has no choice but to lie trapped within me.