The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The embodiment of my love,

You fit around me like a glove.

So tight, warm, and sensual,

You are nothing less than habitual.



The every thought of your skin

Is an undeniable mortal sin.

And, I would choose to burn,

If your undying love I could earn.



That, so softly, my fingertips

Could eternally trace your lips,

I could create heaven on earth,

An existential rebirth.



To you alone I do belong.

For your touch, I lustfully long.

To drink of your flesh once again,

And eternally bathe in your sin.



You are my shadow and my light.

In your dark armor, my glorious knight.

You are my dreams and my reality,

My universal eventuality...

What is,

What was,

What never will be,

Eternally, your sin caressing me...

A flutter of the heart

Your lips across my skin

A light touch of fingertips

Trailing where you've been



The glitter in your eyes

Your hand on my hips

The feel of your skin

The taste of your lips



The strength of your arms

The warmth of your embrace

The thousand different sorrows

This night can erase

to cry or

not to cry,

to die or

not to die



to live or

not to live,

i now know

i have nothing left to give



if madness is what this is,

then mad i wish to be,

for your definition of madness

is my definition of me...



or so i once

so adamantly thought

but, conviction is now

replaced with distraught



so now i question,

is me who truly i wish to be?

for such madness

could be the end of me



oh, to be like

another, any other

and not know this pain,

this unbearable smother



madness is

a double-edged sword

a brilliance and suffering

so often ignored



to drown in a moment,

a concept, a thought,

is a penance

in which i am perpetually caught



oh, how i long

for that conceptual bliss

but, as is my way,

i am caught in my own remiss



and now i exist

between nothingness and hell

a place that i unfortunately

know far too well

Someday I will be right,

Someday I will be sane.

But, until that day,

I am imprisoned in my brain.



Screw you world,

And screw you all...

Not once have you ever cared

I am imprisoned by your wall.



You live your lives

Oblivious to anything but you.

Never once questioning

The prison you imbue...



To live by your standards

Or to not live at all

Is how you have erected

Your impermeable wall.



I can't live by your standards.

So, I faithfully take my drugs

To eradicate my "dysfunctions",

Like pestering little bugs.



No, I am not normal.

And, perhaps, I am not sane.

But, I prefer my dysfunctions

To your Stepford same.



But, to live in your world

And ever escape my bubble,

I must squash my dysfunctions,

That which you call trouble.



I take my pills

Just like a good little girl

To imprison my demons

And live in your world.

mortality has bored me so.

peons running to and fro,

as if things so little truly mattered

their life so pitiful and tattered...



one day, one year, one decade,

and eventually one day to fade.

and at that point, each one pathetic

and not even one infinitely poetic.



to live a life so infinitely obscure

is an eventuality i fear to endure.

my life so endlessly morose and dark,

eventually none will question my mark.



i refuse this mortality given to me,

as if an inevitable sullen decree...

within my words and within my deeds

will i find my perpetual immortality.



for within my heart truly lies

the essence of life and it never dies.

give me a life beaten and battered,

and i will give you a soul completely untattered.



i can show you a soul of plague and blight,

and i can show you a soul of infinite light.

mar me, and beat me, and cast me aside,

and let me show you a soul that takes it in stride.



i know your darkness, i know your pain,

and should you look, i know your bane.

one day i will accomplish, one day i will prevail,

and one day, without question, i will cast aside your veil...

I have found that

My muse escapes me.

All the while,

It assaults and rapes me.



Or, perhaps, it is not

My muse at all,

But my own self

Expounding my fall.



Oh, how I wish for a muse

Of innocence and beauty,

Not one of oft calloused

And mindful failing duty.



Oh, how it harps

On my soul and my brain,

The perils of my failings

And my inescapable bane.



What a freedom

And liberty it must be,

To have a muse

Of unquestionable beauty.



To feel the passion

Of beauty personified.

And, be able to embrace that

As your poetic guide.



All is not so sad,

And all is not lost.

Once in a few blue moons,

In beauty I am lost.



Once it was more

Than it ever is now,

Perpetually lost in passion

Did my muse allow.



But, passion has its cost,

And abandon has its price,

To live unremittingly

Merely by the roll of the dice.



My muse has learned its lesson

And, perhaps, so too have I.

Life is only chance when one

Gambles only on the roll of the die.



But, one more roll

I do now seek,

No matter how ignorant,

No matter how weak.



Just one little one

Is all that I ask.

One last passion,

And one last task.



A passion so grand

And so unabated,

That a lifetime felt

Could never be satiated.



I will except your bane

And your unending blight,

But give me this one

Beautiful, relentless fight...

Existence, existence

Is boring me so.

This dull existence

Is all we know.



Day in, day out,

Always the same,

Watching the moon

Wax and wane...



Always waiting

For that day...

Watching as every

Tomorrow turns today.



Tomorrow will be better,

Or such is the lie,

As tomorrow becomes today

And we never try.



Patience is a virtue,

Or so they say...

Merely an excuse,

And a pathetic cliche.



In such a light,

Patience is a vice,

Like those sadistic wheels

For those sad little mice.



Today is

What tomorrow was,

And another day lost

Just because...



Stop this madness,

And stop this way,

Today is the tomorrow

Of yesterday...