You kissed my lips,
soft to the touch,
My heart pounds ever so loudly,You look in to my eyes ever so deeply..
The anxiety within me becomes so sound..
I forget to acknowledge what is around ...
My body fills with a surge of electricity..
My hands tremble to that touch ...
As fire burns like a flame threw out my system,
I have yet to notice your game ..
But I have to pull my self togther and be practical..
It must be distractible ..
This why Im addicted ..
A Preview from Chapter 6.
The Birth of Lucian Dracul
You can’t see the font this is written in. It’s been filtered half a dozen times. Been sent to satellite and back again. Transmitted. Coded. Encrypted. Decrypted. Message Acknowledged, Over and Out.
But you’ve never been here, or seen the wasteland around me. For all I know, you’re sitting in a Starbucks or grocery store, or someplace or another. And when you get this message, you’re going to think it’s fiction, but it’s not.
I am writing this from the End of the World.
Fuck, I can’t believe I wrote that sentence.
The END of the WORLD.
“Why a dragon?”
Ted waited while Stan disengaged himself from a pack of (Ted guessed) major stockholders. They seemed to have the requisite combination of interest and ignorance that, in Ted’s experience, marked those who had money invested in a project, but not much skin.