Another drop echoes rhythmically again and again, calming in the most sinister ways.
Red, the most human color that dyes the very essence of our existence.
Inside veins, lips, under the dirt of the earth, it moves, it breathes, it roars under sound blocking barriers.
Another sigh escapes my dry lips, I beg for another drop, another echo in the vast expanse.
Nothing quite beats onlooking the dead eyes, the sunken cheeks, the messy insides, the sheer tranquility of stained red.
Never has such a masterpiece been thoughtfully carved, broken, horrifying, enough for even me to bathe in the bitter red.
Another bite I take, and nothing tastes as lovely as the messy hearts of men.