Drink the Blood of the Bats

Drink the Blood of the Bats

The cave held a heartbeat no human could trust,

a pulse that echoed through the dripping dark,

and the bats stirred gently above my head,

a living cloud waiting for my trembling step.

Their wings brushed the stale unbroken air,

a chorus rising from the cavern’s throat,

as if they knew the hunger that lived in me,

the strange desire I never meant to keep.

I cupped my hands beneath their restless flight,

feeling the heat of bodies that never slept,

waiting for the drop of life to fall from above,

a gift meant only for the lost and unafraid.

The taste was ancient the moment it touched me,

fierce as a storm that remembers every soul,

filling my veins with a trembling new fire,

lifting the night into shapes I could finally hold.

I walked from the cave with silence in my breath,

changed by the darkness I chose to embrace,

knowing the world would never understand why,

yet feeling alive in a way daylight could not forgive.