Oh. Dear wolf, you seem to have come back to me through a fiery haze of blue. Your officers have eaten half of the moon. It appears to me with overflowing light; a blur on the sky line of London.
I heard a bat earlier, was it you? The vampire you are, come and suck my blood once more, twice, thrice - make it last forever. Bite me again, drink me dry, consume my person and be as one. We can be one tree, one autumn leaf, one frightening prospect of love.
Enter in to my dreams, wipe out my father’s face. Withdraw the boy from my night vision, crouched in the corner giggling like a simple man with red, wet lips. Make my dreams colour.
Be with me, be mine and inhale my heart, inhale my taste, my smell, my last dying vampiric breath.
We can and we will love. I have heard that we do love. I will be yours, honestly true to the laws of Victorian streets and tree lined alleys. Push me against the brick, pull at my hair and lift me high against the wall.
Drop me to the floor, pull me to your side and lay there, panting dear wolf. Your hairless back tells stories of original aboriginal art. It shows a secret deadly pathway to love. If only I could line these up, tie string to them and crawl through a labyrinth of skin like a spider, then I should know how to serve you.
I think I love you. I can still taste you on my breath.
Dear wolf, you metamorphasise. I love. I hate. Your back wet with sweat brings rain to the labyrinth web. Oh but to love; this strange pain in my heart, a constant ball of rubbery ice sticks clear to the bones of my ribs. I would pluck these for you, pledging them, yielding them like the vacant trophies of a cluttered summer corpse.
I light my candle of love. It is black, not red - I know the colours aren’t right, but this is my black candle of love for you, one of darkness, of creatures at night, wolves, foxes and bats. I call them to me. I ask for energy from them, from you dear wolf.