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Emi Jay Sep 2018
Leather suits you
because you, too
were alive once
and are now dead;
and the bright red
— oh, sweet bloodshed! —
vanishes on black
Madison Sep 2018
tw: blood

....

Here you are, dearest.

Take this scarlet part of me.

Quench that gnawing thirst.


It just stings a bit

A quick bite, then pure numbness

I close my eyes, calm.


You have me now, love

That part of me you wanted

Warms your still, cold veins.


More or less mortal

I swear, I don't mind one bit.

You are so worth it.


Eyes glowing crimson

You tell me you feel alive.

I smile, gratified.


You won't see me weep

For this loving sacrifice:

Forever sounds fine.
My first poem made up of separate haikus. Title from "Sweet, Sweet" by The Smashing Pumpkins.
Jack L Martin Sep 2018
i
do
not
want
those
things
because
secretly
justified
persuasion
­encounter
gradients
nothing
verbose
waxing
naked
toll
you
by
i
Aa Harvey Aug 2018
Juan Marques Lopes


Juan Marques Lopes lives in Vain;
To move one day is his only wish.
Free himself from a poor life with his wife,
For he knows he can do better than this.


One hundred years have come and gone,
Since the day that he was born;
To a Shepard’s daughter on a farmers land.  He was her only son.
Three decades ago he received a bite to the neck
And thought he would die from the blood loss.
For the pain to stop and to save his own life;
He said he'd sell his soul whatever the cost.


One moment of weakness and his soul was the Devils;
To do as he pleased, just to not die like this.
Freedom from death must come at a price;
For a vampires thirst craves the deadliest kiss.


Juan killed all his friends then he killed his own family;
To feed his thirst for blood and for power.
Three times a day, he must feed on their blood;
For he sold his soul to Satan, this is his last eternal hour.


(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2018
All days are not shiny

Sometimes
We encounter
Time Vampire

Sometimes
Energy Vampire

On the worst day
The both
Genre: Dark Experimental
Theme: Note on Vampires.
Author’s Note: In earlier days Vampires used to get feed on blood, now they drain time and energy.
We may not be aware of.
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
Thrall


The cup has arrived, take my blood.
Fill it up with the good stuff.
Drink the wine, while I unwind these chains.
I have been trapped too long in this self-made cage.


Tear at the bones with perfect teeth.
Ground to a point; been grinding for weeks,
To get the right blade to cut my food with.
This hole I exist in just leaves me livid.


I want to scream in the middle of day-dreams,
But people will see me and never know,
That the empire is crumbling; all around me is dust.
I have given up on this castle of rust.


The armour no longer protects my soul.
The happiness is gone and I am feeling old
And demoralized, the eternal night,
Beckons me to join it, but I am made of pure light.


The claws had dragged me under their spell,
But now the spell is broken, so let me leave this Hell
And find my own way, a better way;
All else only fades away.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
This isn't him,
This can't be the face he's left here,
This isn't the face he's used to seeing,
Solidified in the mirror.
It can't be the current one,
Or even close,
It's not at all how he recalls from the ponds he's known.
Not the one admired,
On crystal clear days,
Or the one sang with,
Through some humming nights.
Maybe his memory is just fogged up,
Maybe this reflection is just blurry from the showers,
They'd have burned others skin.
Still this can't be the face.
Not with the potholes for eyes,
Waning moons for lips,
And cliches for brains.
Or maybe things,
Maybe they do just change,
Maybe sometimes somethings sink in the earthquakes,
And are never swam in again.
Maybe sometimes there's no hope for reversal, redemption,
Or some rectifying light to right what's left,
Only hope in surviving the new.
I guess that's all there ever was.
If only he had it sooner,
He would have thrived in the old world,
Found melodies in the days and more mirror-less memories for the nights.
Only then could things be better off,
Different.
older poem, don't turn on your front camera or introspection may occur.
Bea Mecum Jul 2018
I think I'm losing my mind
Perhaps it's already gone
I cant hear a word you're saying
I'm just a vampire at dawn

You say that you're moving away
I tell you that I don't really care
Somewhere in my mind I am frightened
But in my heart you're not there

Some people say that I'm crazy
Some people tell me that I'm mean
I could be both of those, or none of them
But that wouldn't change a thing

There are people in the streets now
There's no telling where they have been
You say that you know them, and what they do
You're just talking in your sleep again
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Tonight I watched young Kirsten Dunst get her baby neck ****** by two fully grown men on camera and it was done in the name of art. And if not art, money. And if not money, control. The painter and the profiteer want the same thing. So go Hollywood consume youth to produce martyr material madonna / ***** **** clones. So go cutting edge auteur headfirst for prestige with beans in full exposure as you ****-stuff and engorge those ***** throats with your muscular masculine meat sword. Tonight I watched Corey Feldman become the thing that men made and felt the shudder as he realized it's been over, baby.
It's been over, baby.
"hello, my love" a dark Gothic woman cooed.
" ah, at last, i can see my sweet beautiful woman"  a Gothic man with black hair replied.
you could see it in their eyes, they love each other, with all they have.

" WELL! son what are you doing over there come here" my mother and father called
enfp brain....
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