"vampiric" poems
*"Claim me,"
she whispers in a plea
"claim my soul as I wilt"
Crimson lips parted,
head thrown back
in ecstatic ache
jugular bared
she needs to feel
that sharp -edged love,
skin and barriers broken
as she melts into
the underworld
of a new grace
a magenta cry into
the inky sky
sacred silence penetrated
as only gasps are heard
milky ******* decorated
with red liquid ribbon,
his nourishment,
her demise
******* pierced with
beads of her sunset life flow
as he ***** and bites...
and howling
into heaven's delicious gate,
she writhes
Her soul dissolving
into his night
and as his spirit
absorbs her vermilion soul
their power rises,
black as coal
…………….
your lips
stick black
sanguine smile
tremulous murmurs
oh happy blood blossom of deaths surrender
sacrificial lamb
cats sparrow entranced
thighs on fire
sobbing from a thousand needled kisses
******* tearing blood
each wound a weeping mouth licking
milky white alter of cold stone
saturated alizarin rust
legs wide
feet and ******* trussed
in chains and drenched rags
for cruelties arrow
o crimson queen,
pomegranate half eaten
mouth smudge black
agape
snake tongue dancing
through cherry lips twisted
darkened eyes of fire and blood
a wash in devils incense
beloved veiled
in evils cradle
bind not the demons kiss
then face down my love upon the crypt of mist
black heavens gate
pupa
vampires bate
a blood moon shaking
a scourge you are now
goddess of pleasures wretched
in the Tuileries of the abyss
consort
your every piercing fang
duck tail ****
a boiling cauldron
desire
spills out
dark cupid witch
legs tied to throat
devil ***** twitch
******* in a mote
ive got the itch
feet scorched in rope
hot ******* *****
hells dark pope
vampiress *****
dark girl feeding
the sun is no more
loves the bleeding*
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
Governments fall from sheer indifference.
Authority figures, deprived of the vampiric energy they **** off their constituents, are seen for what they are: dead empty masks manipulated by computers. And what is behind the computers? Remote control. Of course. Look at the prison you are in, we are all in. This is a penal colony that is now a Death Camp. Place of the Second and Final Death. Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. Don’t intend to be there when this ********* goes up. Nothing here now but the recordings. Shut them off, they are as radioactive as an old joke…
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
---
Once upon a time
In a land so far away
There was a wretched kingdom
Were a vampire held sway
He was very ancient
Handsome as a knave
Dressed in black and silken garb
Was said to be quite brave
But such a cruel creature
He devoured the towns
The soldiers were all petrified
Would not defend the crown
So the King of the castle
Searched both far and wide
For mighty men of valor
To defend the countryside
Finally up north
He found a daring band
Of golden headed Vikings
To defend his failing land
The company of Norsemen
Could not be laidback
They rallied their army
And decided to attack!
They put no garlic round their necks
No ash stakes did they carry
They knew not the vampire ways
And so they were not wary
But oh! What valiant men!
They made quite a sight!
Scaling the vampiric castle walls -
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT!
The vampire, Vlad the terrible,
Made a crimson flood
Destroyed every one of them
And feasted on their blood!
It was before morning
The darkest witching hour
Vlad finished dispatching them
His countenance was dour
Then a light came streaking
From the pitch black sky -
It was a Valkyrie!
She made a fearsome cry!
"You! Vlad the terrible!"
The ghoul looked up, aghast!
"You feasted on my Norsemen -
But I am here at LAST!!!"
The mighty female warrior
Shook back her golden mane
"You've killed many villagers
But won't do it AGAIN!!!"
The brilliant armored woman
Faced off the evil lord
He laughed, "You cannot slay me!
No! Not with that sword!"
"And for all your armor
What do you suppose?
Your sweet delicious throat
Is slender... and EXPOSED!!!
The Valkyrie laughed
She threw back her hair
She let fly her sword
It scissored through the air!!!
The dreaded Vlad was impaled
But NOT through his chest
Through his very garments
The great sword came to rest
To a TREE the monster stuck
Like a fly caught with a pin
He could not free himself!
And he saw the rising SUN!!!
He struggled against his cape
He'd have none of THAT!
But Vlad could not break the sword
So he became a bat!
Up he flew to escape his fate
But a ray of sun broke through
With an arc he burnt to spark
IT DESTROYED VLAD AS HE FLEW!!!
The Valkyrie, triumphant,
Cried out, "it is I!!!
For when there is a battle,
I decide who lives and dies!!!
I decide the outcome!
Tis not by happenstance...
Won't see you in Valhalla
*You never had a chance!!!*
So ended the battle
The Valkyrie WON.
The outcome was decided...
...Before it was begun!!!
SoulSurvivor
5/6/2015
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Dusk!
With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings!
Bats!
Glowing red eyes and glistening fangs,
These unspeakable giant bugs drop into view.*
Fibrous wings furred like a moth,
Big ears are just a membranous extension of antennae.
Flying in search of a flower’s pollen laden froth,
Silent except for the hum and squeak of echolocation.
Trap bats in attics, butterflies in nets.
No rabies feared, no bedbug bites to itch.
Clawed feet ****** and grab like praying mantis pincers;
Bloated stomach slopes like a pudgy beetle.
Jaws manipulate like an ant, excise like scissors;
Soft hair rustles like a wooly caterpillar.
They live in darkness, centipedes do too,
Come out at night like cockroaches tend to.
Skittering through the night like daddy long-legs,
Noses snubbed like bumble bee faces.
Wind turbines endanger bats,
Like fans endanger lightning bugs.
Only one percent of bats are vampiric,
Like only a small percentage of spiders are poisonous.
Dawn!
With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings!
Bats!
Bats are bugs, aren’t they?
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
vampiric ***** house
a fearful symmetry
of cleavers for something to love
***** addicted
pearly satin's copulate
a continent of curves
ovoid rectums and raw mouths
in a ritual of sadistic etiquette
drenching phallus tongued spit
like gales of flames
at a masochists invitation
for foot blooded kisses
and heated lopped breast
eager haunches thunder
in a malignant lust
********* utopias **** cyclops
spreading winkling's dribbling
night operas
in a red cathedral of flicker hives
squealing euphoria's hemic arcade
with greased ******* that break backs
fluting throats ***** chromatic fizz
and shrilling wombs flutter like bat wings pandemonium
in the museum of the moon
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Number 7 in the ORLOK series and one of the best
O how I relish the taste of blood
****** out from the devastated jugular
But there is more, much more
When the victim is a nubile ****
From a Transylvanian village
Where ****** morality
Is quite ******* thin on the ground;
And that is how I met my fate.
'Twas on an October eve
When I met plump Esmeralda
And (having fed my fill from her neck
as she slept in her hut
under filthy rags stinking of stale *****
I sank my fangs into her naked belly
Ripping into her bloated guts
With my accustomed gusto;
My tongue slurping its way
Over her twitching ****
And finally I descended joyously
To her odorous spunk-encrusted *****
For the last rites,
Before the final curtain
To her worthless life of peasantry.
But then, as my excitement mounted,
And just as I was on the verge
Of pumping out my vampiric *******
I felt an agonising, mind-blasting pain
As a major stroke swept through me,
Wrecking my synapses big time,
Turning my brain into guacamole.
And now I am a crippled ******
Just a spasticated old vampire
In my second-hand rusting wheelchair,
Courtesy of Romanian Social Services,
Drooling helplessly
Into my swollen pissy crotch,
Waiting for another enema,
My sole remaining pleasure
And a stimulus to my jaded prostate.
But, hurrah! hurrah! new hope arrives:
A miracle occurs as I read of
The new wonder pill from SuperDrug
Available only in private practise
And guaranteed to rejuvenate the jaded
Or your money back, no worries.
Orlok will fly again to pursue
The pleasures of the flesh
And especially the botty-zone.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
This is number six of ORLOK's poems
When I see a fat smiling face
On a plump young ******
I am consumed with lust
To rip out her neck
And to **** the lifeblood
From her throbbing veins.
And then my drooling jaws
Slide down her floppy ****
Heading southwards
To where the business is at
For a further tasty mouthful
From both ends.
Finally I administer
The coup de grâce
Which is to say
Putting it bluntly
Eight inches of vampiric ****
Up the dirtbox.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
This meadow once a graceful place
Pathways to untold peace
Narrow corridors into the heartland of tranquility
Weaving in, out, around trees
Like perfectly formed webs
That glisten with morning dew
Even as the sun sets through the branches
Cascading this meadow with darkness
New Moon blanketing the meadow
With the hope of new light
The voices begin to play
Lullaby whispers dancing on leaves
Shaking tree limbs to the eerie silence
The nonexistent breeze
Carrying the meadow into ballrooms of vampiric flames
Thirsty for the life each tree branch holds
Silent meadow voices
Truly are silent
When meadows burn to the sound
Of crackling horror-stricken leaves
Curling under the immense heat
Fossilized in ashes
Making this once tranquil meadow
An ashen wasteland for silent meadow voices
Refusing to even open their tongues
To welcome the morning sun
Bringing new light
To the horror of silent meadow voices...silenced
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
Last night I reached my hand out to the monster under my bed whose eyes usually glow scarlet and whose teeth typically gnash and snap but this time had the same deep brown eyes and average teeth that I do
Last night I pulled my skeleton out of the closet and we danced to the blue jazz that floated through my window from the sax player below and then we played never-have-I-ever and watched SciFi TV on Netflix
Last night I asked the mermaid down the bathtub drain if she'd like to come up for a swim and we laughed and splashed and sat on my roof in the star light talking about love and sushi recipes and where to get a really good haircut
Last night I called out to the werewolf who roams these parts as he called out to the silver globe of a moon and I gave him some salad because he's a vegetarian and he showed me pictures of his pet bunnies Morningglory and Killer
Last night I covered the mirrors and opened the shades for my vampiric friend Velma, a quiet girl who volunteers at the animal shelter and soup kitchen
Last night I said good night to my nocturnal friends and went back inside to turn off the lights and make sure my dog was inside who I call Albertius Rex but was previously known just as Cerberus
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
The feeling of sickness at the
Back of your throat
The back of your mind
The pit if your stomach.
The butterflies -
Not so pretty now
Bats -
Almost vampiric ones
That nibble at the
Lining of your abdomen
And cause you to lurch
Yourself forward.
Your legs shake uncontrollably
(sometimes)
Your hands as cold as ice
Pins and needles
Painful cramps
Aches.
As if your whole body
Threatens to collapse
Itself on top of you
And your brain is just
Ready to shut down
Any minute
The feeling of when you will burst
Explode
Become that butterfly,
Emerging from the cocoon
Except you're not at all
Majestic
...In any way...
You're just a ghost
- troubled
Trapped in a girl's body
Trying to find a way
To break free.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Yes, it's the fifth in the COUNT ORLOK series!
Ah! Sweet Death comes slowly
to my poor victims,
As I **** their lifeblood
through their gargling screams.
How I enjoy their cries
for mercy and compassion,
Just before I give them
eight inches up the ****
CHORUS (Sung to the tune of "Rawhide")
Thrusting, thrusting, thrusting,
Though the smell's disgusting
Yeeha!
I'm evil beyond measure
And I gain my evil pleasure
Through rain and wind and weather,
My shit-splattered **** will never
Forget the pangs of pleasure
Inside...inside...
Yeeeeee-Hawwww!!!!"
*[Orlok wipes crap off vampiric **** and flies off,
the wnd whistling through his gaping zip.]*
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
Being the sun in your misery is dimming me
It’s parasitic
I used to see us symbiotically, I used to think we balanced each others sadness to reach mutual happiness
I was incorrect
Being the blood to your vampiric nature is draining me
It’s bloodsucking
I used to see us as co-unit, I used to think we were an equal part to each others madness and in turn we could reach sanity
I was mistaken
Being the floating device to your endless ocean is sinking me
It’s so heavy
I used to see us a lifeboat, I used to think we were carrying each other through the sea to reach the shore
You’re drowning me
Nov 23, 2023
Nov 23, 2023 at 9:47 PM UTC
Maniacally,
The days and nights
Bleed together
Into a time frame
The insane
Tap into
That's a lot like infinity.
Vampiracally,
The years of
Infinity
Bleed together
Into an abysmal
Spiral
Of insanity.
Supernaturally,
Are our states of being.
How well
We blend in
With a dismal
Arrangement
Of plain people
In trains,
Checking their wrists
For the time
As they travel
Physically.
Naturally,
The three of us
Are bound to meet
At some point.
Tapping into
Hidden goldmines
Of psychological
Nuggets
That gleam
With prosperity,
As everything
Melts together
Again.
Everything is sacred.
Everything is connected.
Mining
For hidden connections
Ought to excavate
Feelings of wonder.
The caverns filled
With complex crystals
Of energetic
Freethought
Have long been
Paved over
By trains and
Linear brains
Improving on their
Transistors.
Maniacally and
Vampiracally,
The days and nights
Bleed together,
While the world below
Bustles about;
We appear to be
Just like one of them.
We may even check
Our watch.
Our conditions
Are congruent
In that they are
Nothing less than
Supernatural.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 5:16 AM UTC
It all starts with a kiss on the forehead from the devil.
A curse so deadly that The Grim Reaper would fear for his life.
Togetherness is a lost cause for sanity and my mind.
One of them, if not both, has been absent.
I've killed many and many before.
Homicidal cravings have polluted my veins.
Empathy has fled the scene of this heinous crime inside my head,
As the voices so gracefully moved in.
Frequent scenarios are projected in my dreams,
Like some spooky yet ****** film.
Two vampiric women kiss so maliciously,
As their lips are painted with blood.
This vision makes ****** ********
The blood flow has not yet been drained from my vision,
As it stains the cotton of my memory.
Remorseful thoughts convert to an addiction.
I need to accommodate another fix, before my inevitable conviction.
I've once felt the feelings of the peaceful,
But reality has stolen my conscience.
A lovely soul transformed to atrocity .
This lantern gained a shortage of oil,
causing me to become lost in a field of misery and pain.
Minacious laughs frolic in my ears,
Though these giggles I'm quite familiar with.
I heard them often, so joyful and so free.
But now they've turned to evil.
An inability to move my hands when desired,
Caused by attire not aimed for warmth.
I'm a prisoner blocked by a wall of darkness,
So deliberately detaining my sanity.
I have loved a time, so long ago,
Where happiness was my most valued acquaintance.
Yet something inside of me awoken so suddenly,
Shamelessly demolishing any remote heart I once possessed.
Possession is such a polite word to use,
describing demonic forces taking ownership of your soul.
But I consider it a blessing in disguise,
Due to the unescapable fact that who I was could not be an acception,
To those who hold superiority over me.
A monster I was?
Or A monster I have became.
It would never be determined by the others.
All they fathom is that a monster is contained,
And lives will no longer be stolen by the guilty hands of this monster.
But what gives human life it's worth?
I will forever ponder that thought.
For I am the star of this so called Hell,
And where I'll be when my time has come,
No sane human would dwell.
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
1. I slither under flesh like cool breezes under sheets
goosebumps haunt skin blanketed by the shadow of a serpent
all forked tongues and vampiric teeth
2. Sultry is Madame Night when she pulls her veil over her brow
musky perfume is spellbinding and perverse
boys will play rough under the full moon tonight
3. His irises swell and swim when the stars return his gaze
head back in a pantomime of defeat
there is an abyss surging within his body
the threat of overflow is sensual
4. Ghoulish girls adorned in faux fur and red lipstick are on the prowl
cemeteries and Poe are all they know of romance
Anabelle Lee's young orphan lies weeping
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
Red lips
White paint
hides death
her grace a butterflies wing
life caught in her cold stare of her sting.
All dressed in colours which catch the moons glare
she kisses you like death kisses away the life that fades from sleep
an angel with a bushido blade
cuts away the bamboo which grows with haste
the light fades into a full moon
A butterfly hiding in a tomb
with carnivorous teeth
hiding a song of red bloodied despair
her cold touch ice on skin
catches your heart within sin
The black tea ceremony
of vampiric death or matrimony
if she chooses you for her thrall.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Reckoning gaze, learning ropes, knotty pine encasement, knowing what the box looks like from inside is preeminent inimitable. I was so certain last year would be it. Likely even, I thought the same the year before and years before that, all whilst whittling away, planks of this coffin, scratching to get out. Sealed in a fate, this vampiric rising, doomed to eternity of night crawling. Yet, by no means has glamour of Hollywood realm flickered any sheen, this direction. Not all vampires can afford tuxedos. Grosgrain lapels, and red satin lined capes do do wonders for former stars of silver screen, but this succubus prefers his naked lot. Apparently, malignant rogues who lie amongst worms don't always have the wardrobe to go with it. New Year's resolution: a tuxedo, perhaps some tails, and somewhere to wear them.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 2:03 PM UTC
All the worst things in life
Start with a:
A-social
A-theist
A-sexual.
A-bominations to be corrected, but,
And although, in the hands of a body
The blame must go
Tight-gripped and freely clasped
A smile hangs like a necklace.
For, they ask, what grows,
On what shore that glance a thirsting road
Where no artisan of wells
Lets run his craft
Burst with life?
What vines may couple, transect dead veins
Still in a bed of salt
But dead and grey shades of the true?
None,
It would seem, can carry the sweet
Of fertile seeds along the water’s edge
It is but passing as its plumpness
Withers and drops
Apart, epistle, a dogma.
This vampiric little heart takes no form
In Narcissus’ pool it does not
Glisten in the waters calm
Despite the furious mouth
And, gone, lost of all that made it whole.
I go back to the source of the
Grey valley flume
Unknown to impetus,
Cannot find its way in the endless roads
And paths in the sun-baked skin,
The wind may blow salt in my eyes though
The music of its basin fills my ears:
Waves breaking and pressing
On soft earthen lines, scrap-book memories
Faded at the edges like Polaroids
Unfold from the waves of purity
In the sand of an empty shore.
I peer idly into the glimmering stream
No red heart beating,
But a grey heart; one simply searching, pining
For a grey love to begin
And the world that I know
They belong in.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
*“I broke the fangs of the wicked and
snatched the victims from their teeth.”*
— Job 29:17
O’ vampiric devils cast out into the night;
abhorred by the sun, and shunned by the cross!
Forcefully banished by the Lord’s great might,
O’ vampiric devils cast out into the night!
Your ravenous nature; the forefront of our plight,
so hang your heads low, and mourn grace’s loss.
O’ vampiric devils cast out into the night;
abhorred by the sun, and shunned by the cross!
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
If I could be a character
In film written word or in video game
I'd have to choose the character
From which I got part of my name
Alucard, yes the Damphir son of Count Vlad Tepes
I would if I could become this powerful walking pile of vampiric unholy flesh
Now you may be wondering why? Why would I walk down his path?
Well dear reader, I'm very glad that you asked
You see, when I think of Alucard, Castlevania I confess comes to mind.
Symphony of the night more specifically, but I'll save that game for another time.
In the game he battles against insurmountable odds, just to answer the question
Is it truly right to follow the fate to which you were destined, even at the cost of many lives?
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
I hear the Siren's cry.
A bittersweet laughing ruse
full of a life fulfilled
just out of earshot.
Here I stand restrained.
A mute with perfect hearing,
A rigid, fettered meat husk.
Jutte Bristles feast upon the flesh of my wrists-
Vegetative vampiric cord.
It holds me to my main sail in a sea of
Violent storms.
My ship tosses and bucks, riding the bull of Poseidon
while phantoms of light dance on crests of oblivion.
My sailors, ears plugged with wax
Shift and sway on legs accustomed to rough waters.
I Alone, Hear the call and strain to act.
And what do these Goddesses of Lies offer,
(for deep down I know what they are)
these voices of fell winds wrapped in painful beauty.
Riches or Aires?
Sweet coupled love?
Secrets of the Green Mirror?
No, an end to loneliness.
Become one with the sweet horror and chaos.
Come dance over the waters with ****** abandon.
Feast on the tripe of torn souls.
I long to follow, but will not.
Rope against bone and sinew.
Blood pools at my ships rain-drenched trunk.
The song it calls, it calls…
Vile once-men, future minstrel demons,
Abominations that haunt my ghost ship.
Listen to your commander and allow me to follow
these kisses of spectral wanton lust.
Screams of anguish echo--
and then realization!
It is my own voice that parts
the waves of the storm soaked sea.
It is my own voice that
parts from the divine.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
The mid noon sky bleeds out; it bruises in flames.
Arsonists hold their gassers to my face.
In their grisly field of vision, I am a delectable
vapor, born to flit away.
Regard not the orange cones, nor the caution tapes:
these gates hold little significance to them.
(Then the other 'a-word' comes to mind: anarchists)
Prior to this, they had presented themselves
as chess pieces to fall in love with—little do they know,
I've an animus for them. As stupid as I may appear,
I know it's a game!
Unzipping out of incognito mode, they have unleashed
their razor blade. They whizz their wings.
Here they come, coming for me.
Here I go again: counting sheep,
blinking for one whole eternity.
Oh doctor! I'm in dire need of your vampiric syringe.
Swill my peaking adrenaline— at this rate, I'll go mad.
I shall never recuperate.
Mollify my entirety.
Teach me to rollick like angels do. I beg you.
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 5:30 PM UTC
He took me for a lover whilst I was on holiday in Italy. He was Italian- the married man who owned our villa.
Every night after twelve, I would creep out of the house in white lingerie and a silk slip that glowed in the moonlight. My lips became a dark, sticky flower of cherry gloss.
I knocked on the downstairs bedroom door. He would open it, and as he stood there he was silhouetted in the dim golden light of the bedside lamps.
He would be in the middle of shaving, or holding a toothbrush, to make it seem like he’d forgotten I was coming- but every night I heard him hurriedly making the bed, shouting at his wife, and pacing up and down on the leopard rug. He called me his “dolce angelo” (sweet angel) and I called him my “belo diavolo”(handsome devil). His fervent lust was punctuated by whispered vowel sounds and a dark, vampiric beauty.
In silence, we shared cigarettes and ignored his black and white wedding photograph on the dresser.
In the morning, as dawn lit the mountains and his chickens began to crow, I straddled his chest for a last stolen kiss, and knew he would watch me bathe in his pool that afternoon.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore.
I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore.
I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language.
I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished.
My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner.
I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal.
I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society.
I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety.
I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth.
I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth.
I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions.
I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs.
I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables.
I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables
I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver.
I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers.
I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty.
I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings.
I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida.
I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever.
I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life.
I am Satan, damnation and strife.
I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates.
I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres.
Thank you, to world's only true Genius.
Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
Blinking cursor
Nemesis
Friend with benefits
I
Spill
Pixel
And disseminate wisps
A dais for your tor
Glyph of whim
Cursor that waits
I know you
I know you all too well
You grant a world of potential
And yet I'm all knees
I bite the curb
My words spent
conferred to a
Vampiric ligerhawk Nemo
Whom eyeballs me
Into an X
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC