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Sometimes I long to cut
the heart out from your chest
I feel yearning to know
What’s truly inside of you
Curious to even know if
We really do share the same blood
Of what’s inside of us
As an apricot has sprightful seeds
We know not to eat too much
Just as the drudging dark blood
We drink only to find in time we want
More of what’s inside of others knowing I can’t **** you maybe only to maim you longer
Of darkness to unfold,
I know where the boats go.
Tales that shouldn’t be told,
Of souls, demons told, “No.”
Where forth the demons bayed,
No other place love shown.
Forced evil seen and slayed,
Darkness is where I go.
Finding nights of terror,
Tears lingering unknown.
Knowing you of all things,
Let gone, a deathly glow…
Wincing and knocking, no…
A rattle and tattle,
Death dark and all alone…
The wind felt breezed and cold,
The chilling breath spirit.
Not known… till screeching end…
This all too conclude so,
Tales that shouldn’t be told…
joe thorpe Oct 17
I got the small room.

I am winning the day.

Finally, I can breathe.

except, the walls are stained,

the mattress, too.

thick brown streaks;

a hundred men have sweated

The Fear

in these walls, I think.

the mirror

in the shared bathroom

sees the blood in my eyes.

a fly, a small black, buzzing


crawls over my fingers

as I am writing this letter.

and the fly crawls

over me,

Over the table,

Over my dreams.

crawls over cheap, thin-soled shoes.

my words on the page.

my whisky, too.

the fly crawls across the dents in my soul.

the handkerchief

I use to wipe my mouth.

and so, what do you do?

I swing my pencil at its soft dark body,


I flail my arms,

as crazy men do.

would anyone rescue me

from my hell and understand.

the fly and I.

isolated I am.

through the window


under the full haunted moon,

I undress myself.

to the bed

I lay myself soon.

the single-sized sluggish bed before me.

bed of a hundred men.

one hundred dead men.

one hundred dead-drunk men.

me, now as I am.
If Charles Bukowski wrote a gothic poem
Tiana Aug 26
satin black robe, maroon nails,
my cold palms on a colder marble balustrade,
the moon soaked rose garden,
and crying angels of that medieval fountain;

Beethoven creeping in the background
but still my heart didn't strung a sound;

All I did to find inspiration
still I'm going blank for years
words won't splendidly fill my unfinished fiction;

But still I'm here
grasping onto the midnight smoke
trying to give colours to my drunk imaginations;

My tired sighs now wished
that it'd be easy
to come up with words,
a missing lover
or a ballroom ******
or a heartbroken maiden
with empty goblets filling her scars;
anything would do now;

As long as this melancholic sonata goes on,
And before this cooing midnight
disappears into a blinding dawn,
You would find my impassive face
and desperate gaze
capturing floating words
to give a meaning to this new found romanticism;
heavily inspired by Beethoven's moonlight sonata first movemnt
Dev Solanki Apr 30
I was waiting for my sweet release,
To find my peace, my soul's release.
For life has been a bitter pill,
A constant ache, an endless hill.

I write this note to say goodbye,
To tell the truth, to ease the lie.
I was a boy who tried his best,
But never could stand up to the test.

I disappointed those I loved,
A burden on them, always shoved.
I never did anything of worth,
A life of shame, a stain on earth.

I know that death is not the end,
A new beginning, a chance to mend.
But I can't bear this pain no more,
The weight of life, the endless chore.

So to those who read this note of mine,
Please don't feel guilty, don't resign.
My fate was sealed, my heart was cold,
My life was but a story untold.

My rendezvous with death is near,
But don't you shed a single tear.
For in the end, I'll find my peace,
And all my troubles will finally cease.
Amanda Shelton Aug 2022
In between the teeth of weeping
angles lurks death and permanent
night. Such tragedy is this life.

Wolves vent their howls,
as I awaken.

Ti's a night of dark desire,
my weeping soul rises from the
depths of the earth.

As the moon bow's in its
throne of star's, eternal
darkness surrounds me
I arouse and the light
bends for my shadow.

Cold breath of winter shrouds
my form, a lurking beast
with a lust for blood.

My black ***** hair cascades
over tragic shoulders,
as my lips part slightly
revealing my true nature.

To taste the flesh beneath me
as blood streams from my plumped
lips, is ghastly and ghoulish.

But no peace do I ponder,
forever I wander.

Now a night of misery and plight,
I grow weary of the night.

So I go down to the river where
it is warm and green, and I enjoy
the night until morning brings
ash and light.

Goodbye! The end!

Au revoir! La fin!

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
This is written as a personal viewpoint of an old vampire tired of living in eternal darkness. I've been thinking about writing this for awhile. I had another lucid dream about vampires and it inspired me to finally write it down.
Even with a thousand heads and souls around me,
The thought of loneliness always resided with me
I did not intend to fit in everyone's sizes,
Nor was I proud of the bottle that shook with rage, ready to spill
My life disintegrates within a flash of a solution
I present myself and my energy to a dull audience
But the same smiles just stare speechless, gawking at me

I paraded willfully, expressing myself through art that was repulsive to many
Yet, there were a few eyes that presented a beacon, despite my addictions crumbling the floor beneath me
I reached out and touched the flames that singed my hair
Till I landed on flowers
They were not the gorgeous type,
But they were just like me:
Odd, beautiful, deterring, and tiresome.

One of them shared a joke about death,
It forced a laugh out of me, till I realized today was April Fools' Day
A skull-shaped bud cries in front of me, similar to that of a child
I take in the smell of the hole I've fallen in, though the fall was cushioned by giant red flowers
As pretty as they are, their smell is who I am
I look above and see a crucifix in the sky
Then the darkness falls in, and I accept the undeniable truth by closing my eyes.
Written in honor of Rozz Williams from Christian Death
Nickolas J McKee Feb 2022
I see you crystal clear,
A lover’s lust away…
For I dine with darkness,
Bidding you as your seer…
You shouldn’t have met me,
Playing with my dear blood…
All it takes is one spell,
Rising hell from the mud…
Fixed suns will bring famine,
All your love with starve out...
Begging God for mercy,
You will receive Mammon…
What love you have is lost,
Only for demons crossed…
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