Dark Blood

My psychiatrists called me on my cellphone today. I have been seeing a whole team of them. Guess I'm too complex for just one to handle. I was quite surprised. Is it normal for them to do that? Call their patients to congratulate them for having made tiny improvements in their twisted lives? I'm feeling low tonight. The atmosphere here was lively, but it was tolerable only because I drew away from everyone else and stood alone and aloof with the winds and my darling cat.
Him.
I am a shadow in the house, the son of my father, afraid of the spell my creator has woven over me. I fear his touch, yet I resent the loss of it. It is a paradox, and it is driving me mad. I have left my pack of cigarettes at my Challen's shallow grave and now I regret my rash decision. I need a smoke badly. I need to get out of here and clear my mind. I need a drink. I need someone, anyone! But it's played out like this, and I know subconsciously, this was how I intended it to be. Me, alone against my father. This battle of wills is between us two, and I, the prodigal son, shall not bow before the man who once held my heart in the palm of his hand. Regardless, father, mentor, friend...lover. This twisted tale must end. No more. Even as the tears flow into my hands, sparkling in the pale moonlight, I tell myself again...no more. I am no longer that boy. I am a man, and these hands that collect the crystalline drops falling from my eyes are the hands of a man. But unlike the hands of the men who touched me and ripped my innocence from me, I will not sully myself by destroying their lives. No. When the sun rises, I will leave. I will do what they never could. I will leave this place, and I will leave no mark behind, visible or otherwise. I have been quietly passing my time here by listening to my music, and talking softly to my feline friends. I have not really spoken to anyone, and I don't know why. Being here just saps the strength from my soul. Again I damn the blood that runs through my veins, the same substance that connects me so intensely to the shadows that have veiled the world. I have lived a life of secrecy and lies, and now as I spread my torn wings, bathed in the moonlight, I long very much to be the boy with that sparkle in his eyes. I curse my ancestry, I damn my father, yet as I cry alone, I want very much to have his arms around me and hear him apologise for the torment he has put me through. It will never happen. I bear these scars and wounds as a reminder of the past. Yet it is my tainted blood that damns me the most. I glance upward at the heavens before turning away. I will never be free of the darkness. My psychiatrists can do their best, but the blood will still run through me, and as long as it does, I will always be lost.
The first gate has been opened, Gabriel.