enchanted

you may remember this poem from a while ago. I've edited it for the better, (I hope) and it is barely the same as it once was. decayed eyes, gaze cast forward. a haze, settled on the not to distant horizon one intent in mind, he continues forward. one of a swarm, he hobbles along walking this "barren wasteland'' this "hell." like all of the the others his craving for 'flesh', his thirst for 'blood', remains unsatisfied. at least until 'Sunday' comes. a memory, unattainable, tugs at the back of his conscious. try as he might, the figure of a 'bearded man', ensures it obscuration Logic in hand, he forces his way nearer. So that perhaps he might see this object clearer. Done. It is seen, a delightful illumination. A thick leather book, all that he needed With this, a true 'revalation' occurs. Stopped in his tracks, the spell is broken. Slowly he is torn to pieces by the others!