"vampiristic" poems
When I honestly express myself, certain people don't like it. Why don't they like it? Their vampiristic egos feed off of diminishing other's self-esteem. The flourishing blossom of my persona causes their ugly **** to feel uncomfortable and insignificant. Much like weeds, they would rather strangle a rosily blossom than contribute to the beauty of the garden.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
So long I've been without you, my dear.
How I've missed you,
Lend an ear,
I've yearned for your vampiristic images engraved on my skin
Blades each and everyone I named,
leaving signatures in soaked red sin.
We've suffered through one hell of a night,
he's planting ideas in my head
But you must know by now,
I don't cut because I wish I were dead.
Manic Depression, Bipolar, whatever
essentially, being the way I am
brings me to awful places sometimes
the numbness swallows me like quicksand.
Now my bed littered with disassembled razor heads
I dragged the tip across my left hip
silly me, I should have guessed
the scars there are just too thick,
not a single line appears before my eyes
not even the feeling of a pins *****
Thank god, I'm ambidextrous
my right side will do the trick.
Porcelain, unscathed, soft, dewy flesh.
Oh, my.
This is temptation at her best.
My epidermis gives way as she sinks herself in half an inch
delicious, irresistible seductress.
Please, take a gander
this art is some of my most true
For when I am done my ****** masterpiece
the crimson craters read "I Love You".
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC