Blasphemy

 
darkness slick with rage
sweaty, tangled mess of flesh
teeming with energy
writhing bites at the bit

Silenced rebellion, a hellion of sorts
growls then spits ash
A hellhound is loosed
receiving orders from down South

running through the night
grumbling through the severity
An intense yearning fuels
And the hunt begins

Soft laughter can be heard
The hound is livid
Perhaps a dare on the wind

Nose to the air, he breathes in shadows
Securing his target
a tangy smell he detects
Fresh blood, he drools
Then follows the scent

It is Innocence at play
She has avoided him before
sacricant beguiler he tracks her

She disappears, fangs gleaming
Ready for the feast
She has left him a gift
a penance for being a monster child

Secretly, he loves her
But it is blasphemy