There are vampires, but they like to feed on blood and they do it because they have to, to exist.

The werewolf has to feed because it is in their nature and meat becomes their prey.

Zombies are cursed and that is why they feed the way they do.

But me, I do what I do for the sheer pleasure of it and you would be shocked if you knew how many people like me were out there in this world of ours.

You see, I am what you would call a cannibal and if you even tasted human flesh, then you would understand how it is an amazing required taste.

And the fear of my victims makes that taste so much sweeter, the mingling of their sweat is just mouth watering and they just so much better when they have to feel pain.

Mind you, heavy smokers can be a bit annoying because you get that smell of nicotine in the air when you fry up their lungs.

There are so many of us about, have you ever wondered about those exclusive restaurants where you find it difficult to be able to book a table.

Where if you order the sausages it has so much great flavour and the gravy is just so delicious.

Next time and look around at those regulars that always seem to get a table, that look is not the expectation of the food but the wonder of what you might taste like.

I've had it all, Indian, Mexican, Chinese and nothing seems to beat a nice English roast.

But never complain to the management because the next time you might find yourself on the menu.

Sooner or later we are going to get you, we might cut you to pieces as you are still alive, because as I said before, the flesh tastes so much better that way.

Maybe we could boil you alive like a lobster, I've done that so many times to my victims.

I know the neighbour was having some problems with some teenagers but they have disappeared now.

So I decided to celebrate and have a barbeque and invite everyone, the food will taste like nothing you've tasted before.

Yes I'm going to invite you over to join us, we would love to have you over for dinner.

.

A fog this night has settled in
Among the chiseled stones
With dates now carved of ending years
and places so alone

Shadows weave in dense display
Each noise our skin it crawls
The squeaking of the rusty gate
Like footsteps in the halls

Shaded in its own dark beauty
Garden glows 'neath half hidden moon
A rose's thorns prickle the night
Trembling winds carry somber tune

Voices loom behind the walls
Whispers of secrets rushed
Cries of anguish simmering ready
Betrayals are quickly hushed

And still we walk with eyes so wide
Shivering our hands we hold
Bound by fear this wicked night
Lost among the gravesites cold

It's my fault this nightmare eve
A shortcut sought, a new way home
And now we wander, careful steps
Deeper than the eerie roam

Finger nails against blackboard scrape
The whistle of a boiling kettle
Sounds that make me shiver and cringe
Maddening and unsettled

I imagine a band of ghostly beasts
Play upon our organs this night
Stealing our hearts, tortured minds
Now I'm clinging to you in fright

Hold me tight I’ll find an exit
Somewhere down this crooked path
Lined of shrubs with broken branches
Beating hearts the aftermath

Not much further, there’s a clearing
Just a few more steps to go
I’ll let nothing come and harm you
Because I do love you so

He is watching me,
Through the dust stained window
With his evil pumpkin head
Lit with an eerie candle glow
The axe from the shed,
Glints within the moonlight
This is no nightmare,
No dream,
For the beads of sweat are cold
I fear the tapping at the door
Then suddenly smashed to pieces
He is here now,
In this room
Raising that axe above my head
I close my eyes and tremble
Because I have no time to scream

Green, stringbean bodies.
  Neon skin, the color of
a lime being crushed
  underneath a heel.

Tell me about earth,
  I could hear the voice
in my head. Like a
  radio being crumbled
up into a ball and
  thrown into my
train of thought.

Earth?

Yes, Earth. Tell us about it.

Us?

There are forty-million listening.

Oh. Well, Earth. Earth. Earthy-Earth.
  Earth is full of humans, like me.
People. Humans are people.
  And people are hell.
In No Exit, there are these--

We've read No Exit.

You've read No Exit?

We've read everything humanity
has published, in a matter of
  m o m e n t s.
You aren't as developed as you
seem to think you are.

What was the best thing you read?

We were partial to
Last Exit to Brooklyn.
Now, back to our question:
tell us about Earth.

If you've already read everything,
why do you need to ask,
let alone ask me?

You are the most
insignificant person
on this planet.
We are interested
in your thoughts.

I'm insignificant?

Yes.

Oh. I see.
Earth... Well, people...
People are beautiful.
The Earth is beautiful.
What makes us gorgeous
is our growth and our
desire to progress.
What makes us dazzling
is our belief that
a collective happiness and
an individual happiness
is both attainable
and sustainable.
Now, **** me
and annihilate
my planet, already.
That's why you're here,
right?

No. We're here to
harvest your women
and to colonize
everyone else.
You just persuaded us
to breed with your women.

But, that's ****.
And colonizing?
That's slavery.

We've read everything
your planet has ever written.
**** and slavery has been
encouraged on your planet
since your brief breath of
e x i s t e n c e.

You're my favorite
  ****** cover.
Sing for paint drizzle.
  Kick me in the leaf
    stuffed gutter.
Put me aside. Pull me aside.
  Tell me you've kinda lied.
Tell me you're kinda sad.
  Tell me you don't
    have a future
  and that you're
    kinda glad.

I love you--I want you dead.
  I want you dead. Why'd you
gotta me feel free
  and pretty?

You're my favorite
  failed abortion--
pure shock value, baby.
  Your past is a ****.
I want you to be a
  plastic bag
so I can suffocate myself
  with you--
pure shock value, baby.

I love you. I love you.
  I love you.
Welcome to getting wet.
  *******. *******.
I want to ******* like
  I have cancer--
pure shock value, baby.

La, La, La
  Go **** yourself.
La, La, La
  Go **** yourself.
La, La, La
  Everyone is a drum solo
by a numb drummer.

On, Dancer!
  On, Cupid!
*** is fun!
  No violence?
Stupid!

I am in such a **** mood,
the mountains have no meaning.
Big ******* rocks.

*******, dad.
*******, Fox News.
*******, Indiana.

None of you *******
know what irony is.
Google that ****.
Jesus Christ.

There are yellow streams--
that's poetic ****.
There are ruby stained sheets--
that's blood, obviously,
and, I dunno,
maybe somebody died on a bed?

Everyone can **** my ****.

To be or not to be,
that is the
shut the **** up.

Rapists are disgusting people.
They aren't people.

******* idiots.
Romanticizing everything
you wish you had
because
suicide, mental illness,
and eating disorders
make you cool,
riiiigghhhttt?
*******.
If you do this,
you aren't interesting.
You're just you.
Get used to it.
There are people
that go through
these issues
and they don't think
it's ******* rad,
*******.

I hate 75% of the south.
The south will rise again?
Get the **** out of here.

Stalin was a ****.

Most writers are *****.
Most of them ****.
I don't care.

For the love of "God",
if I read one more poem
about what poetry is
or how to define a poet,
I'll slam my head against
a ******* knife.

Some people are so dumb.
Most ******* people.
******* pseudo-knowledge.
Armchair philosophers.
If you guys wanted
to **** yourself,
you could jump
from your ego
to your IQ.

Something, something, imagery.
Metaphor.