the chill of death looms heavy in the air.

a shuffle of footsteps on wet city pavement.
fresh rain, a pervasive odor in the air;
i follow you, at something of a distance
and yet, i know you can sense the shiver
running up and down your spine.

this is what i live for.
adrenaline; liquid poison,
fueling the hunt for the hunter;
fueling the cravings of the assassin.

tension builds as your back straightens,
as my lit cigarette finds its way into a gutter
swimming downstream with the other things
smart enough to know to run.
unlike you. you continue down this street with me.

fingers touch the sword’s hilt
as though a musician
warming up for the grand concerto,
preparing the next act of the opera.

something causes you to stop walking.
truth forming fissures on denial at long last?
i duck into the shadows, sword by my side
so the moon’s pale light does not cast a glow
upon the sharpened steel i caress just like a lover.

and like a lover, i seek
to offer ministrations to the passions
i serve as a willing servant;
to the inner demons which hold me captive.

you resume walking as though indifferent,
but i can smell the fear from where i’m standing
and it only grows in potency the closer i come
to you, my unfortunate target.
a dance with the devil awaits as i near you.

fear, a tempting perfume
invading my senses, nearly causing me
to pause and savor its aroma,
but better things are yet to come.

two hand closing around the sword’s hilt.
two arms raising; shoulders square, the posture
taught to me when i was yet a neophyte
elbows bent, eyes set upon you, readying myself
to deliver the fatal blow at last. waiting for one thing.

my fangs taste the wind;
my senses prepare themselves
for the scent i favor the most
filling the night air; running down the streets.

i scuff a shoe on purpose. you turn and face me.
eyes wide, no time to react. metal piercing flesh;
piercing muscle, piercing body, impaling you;
slicing through you as though you were little more
than blood being held inside a container of air.

crimson red, the assassin’s color
pouring out like rivers of
endless pleasure; endless decadence
forming pools intermixing with puddles.

you drop to your knees, looking upward
regarding the face of your killer as he flicks your blood
from his blade and smiles the devil’s smile.
no remorse, no regret, just pure satisfaction.
he bids you go to sleep and you have no choice but to obey.

another body; another soul
another notch upon an already long belt.
the killer strolls into the darkness,
his black heart all the more vile.

the chill of death passes with the blood spilled in my wake.