Sea weed

Nobody's hurting.
Everyone's to busy, and stoned.
The insect licked it's lips on the last drop of our blood.
Running, running trying to catch up.
Where did it go?
Am I bleeding?
I didn't feel a thing.
Almost there,
and if I was why would I go on?
Dark night is familiar.
It brings no dreams.
It hunts.
Day after day,
it patiently waits.
To swallow it's prey in the abyss of never ending sleep.