Yes, it's another poem from my vampiric friend, the fearsome COUNT ORLOK!
Death's Head am I, silver-green
Eerily glowing-in-the-doomy-dark,
See my delicate feather-like wings,
Wings of an ethereal ghost, deadly antennae,
Scented fatally with secret moth codes.
And I stare unblinking...
I watch my own wings flap open;
My life is balanced on my fingertips,
Weightless and shimmering, fearful of what?
I dare not ask that, for I dread the answer,
The response of night-creatures baying at the moon,
As in a terrible nightmare.
And I fly forth to bring death
To frail creatures of mere flesh,
O the joy as my teeth sink into waiting necks
And proboscis-light kisses run down my naked spine,
My tongue savouring their dying essence,
A vague taste of purest *****
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Yes, it's another poem from my vampiric friend, the fearsome COUNT ORLOK!
Death's Head am I, silver-green
Eerily glowing-in-the-doomy-dark,
See my delicate feather-like wings,
Wings of an ethereal ghost, deadly antennae,
Scented fatally with secret moth codes.
And I stare unblinking...
I watch my own wings flap open;
My life is balanced on my fingertips,
Weightless and shimmering, fearful of what?
I dare not ask that, for I dread the answer,
The response of night-creatures baying at the moon,
As in a terrible nightmare.
And I fly forth to bring death
To frail creatures of mere flesh,
O the joy as my teeth sink into waiting necks
And proboscis-light kisses run down my naked spine,
My tongue savouring their dying essence,
A vague taste of purest *****
