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Madisen Kuhn Mar 2021
someday i’ll be too busy to notice the vampires
the sun wakes me up and i know who i am
maybe the chaos will always be there but
i’ll find a way to break it down into mulch and grow
pears and herbs and gardenias from what’s left of me
it takes a while to accept that the shadows matter
and i can’t pretend to know the watermelon lollipop
without the tongue that exists only to melt it away
to turn it into nothing until all that’s left is a paper stick
it might feel like freedom now but it can’t forever
i’ll pull down the curtains and never snooze an alarm again
the worst thing i can think of is writing the same poem
each day for the rest of my life and everyone knowing it
but me
Niel Nov 2020
I am a beast
                         A child of darkness
I exist in multiple realities
    
        It cannot be helped
Elena Mustafa Sep 2020
******* blood sugar
Yes its tasty
As the normal sugar
Cut my wrists
And gently
**** the
Sweetness
Now
Is that better then candy
Renee' Sep 2020
As the sun starts to set and the night becomes darker,
There's a familiar chill in the air and the leaves start to change.
I start to feel my heart racing and pounding through my chest,
That certain urge comes along knowing you will be near soon.
A certain desire and taste no one could ever know,
Unless they felt that deep kiss and no other life you bring like I have.
Greyisntwell Sep 2020
Follow

Follow him down
Don't breathe it in
Knock knock (let me in)
Don't let him in

His words are tainted
With poison
Don't let me drink it
Follow him down
He's knocking on my door

I'm the scared kid
Lying naked on the floor
Knock knock (let me in)
Trying to fight it all
Don't let him in

Univited.
Unneeded.

His shadows are lingering
In the cracks of my mind
Follow him down
To where his river lies

His blood fades to black
No light to shine
No light to guide the way
Knock knock (let me in)

In the doorway
His light shines so bright
He's coming in.
Inspired by Let Me In
Aliq Aug 2020
Verse I:
Everyday
As a beautiful as morning,
Something tells me
"Sorry, he will never grow up."
He don’t believe in real feelings,
Don’t believe in someone's dreamings.

Harsh and rude,
Cold blooded dude... So...

Verse II:
Underground
It's his blueprint, his reflection,
If you stay -
This is gonna be in action.
He is blossom, going higher
Come with him and catch a fire

Young and fool,
Crazy, cool... Yeah...

Bridge:
Under Cover!

Chorus:
He's just hide what hides below,
His real dream and soul, I know.
And if you knows that - don't regret,
Because it's will just blows your head:
If you start bleeding,
His heart grows beating,
Inside him over,
Under Cover!

Verse III:
Just insight
Coming into your strange mind,
This is way
Of his feelings, which you find,
You start follow it, forgetting
Everything what you has getting.

As for me -
You're not free... Well...

Verse II:
Underground
It's his blueprint, his reflection,
If you stay -
This is gonna be in action.
He is blossom, going higher
Come with him and catch a fire

Young and fool,
Crazy, cool... Yeah...

Bridge:
Under Cover!

Chorus:
He's just hide what hides below,
His real dream and soul, I know.
And if you knows that - don't regret,
Because it's will just blows your head:
If you start bleeding,
His heart grows beating,
Inside him over,
Under Cover!
Max Neumann May 2020
writers can have a writer's block
they may end up as a skeleton
sitting at a desktop, holding a pen
take a picture of the soul, survive

looking at it kills every distraction
listen to the indecisive winds; they float
in each nutshell is another nutshell, right?
a letter will cause more letters, won't it?

the picture of the soul: take it
walk through the ruins of the night
watch stars rolling over heavens
don't think about your inner, don't think

the horizon of fear swallows poems
poems that have never existed
the horizon of fear is a writer in disguise
poets will never be able to spot this creature

sometimes, we want to write a lot
sometimes, we want to write less
take a picture of the soul and go on
come on: take this picture, my friend

the ruins of the night are made of letters
skinny letters will grow into heavy words
words become verses and they transform
come on: take this picture, my friend

a picture of the soul kills all the ghosts
write about it and let go, heaven and hell yeah!
vampires and writers adore the ruins of the night
a blank desk, now covered with words and muse

this poem doesn't have an end but a final
i am sending you these letters, here they are
chaos quietly rages in rivers of newness
take a picture of the soul, take these letters, friend
Tonight is a good night.

Inspired to write this poem by:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGbC730C4BA
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Vampires
by Michael R. Burch

Vampires are such fragile creatures;
we fear the dark, but the light destroys them . . .
sunlight, or a stake, or a cross—such common things.
Still, late at night, when the bat-like vampire sings,
we heed his voice.

Centuries have taught us:
in shadows danger lurks for those who stray,
and there the vampire bares his yellow fangs
and feels the ancient soul-tormenting pangs.
He has no choice.

We are his prey, plump and fragrant,
and if we pray to avoid him, he prays to find us,
prays to some despotic hooded God
whose benediction is the humid blood
he lusts to taste.

Published by Monumental Moments (Eye Scry Publications), Weirdbook, Gothic Fairy and Raiders’ Digest. Keywords/Tags: vampires, fragile, creatures, stake, cross, dark, darkness, light, bat, bat-like, shadows, fangs, pangs, prey, blood, lust, lusts, red, lips, night, voice, sings, darkness, evil, incarnate, soul, hell, tormented, pale, eyes
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