The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I’m tired so very tired,
Worn from wars that never end,
Fighting ghosts in hollow silence,
With no lover, no friend to defend.

I ache beneath a thousand masks,
Each smile stitched to hide the screams,
The mirror knows I’m not alright,
But I lie and call it dreams.

I’ve had enough of empty dawns,
The sun’s a curse, not hope or light.
I dread the weight of waking hours,
Another battle, another night.

Pour the bottle, fill the glass,
Let it drown the voices’ choir
I drink to hush the past I drag,
To tame this blood-warm fire.

I don’t want to wake tomorrow,
Let the blackness pull me deep.
No alarms, no tears, no shadows,
Just silence, soft, and sleep.

I don’t want this anymore
This hollow breath, this aching role.
I never asked to play this part,
To carry such a bruised soul.

I want it gone, this life, this pain,
The lies I say when they ask “okay?”
I just want peace I want to fade,
To drift, to disappear, to slip away.

So if you read this, understand,
It’s not for show, it’s not pretend.
It’s just a heart too tired to beat,
And a soul that needs the end.

COMMENTS

-

---

Lamadia79
20:13 Jun 27 2025

😥

---

Cadrewolf2
20:47 Jun 27 2025

Wow stay strong

---

POST COMMENT

Why did you do it, Fox?
Smile with fangless teeth
Whisper sweet myths in candlelight,
Then vanish like a thief?

You're not a vampire.
You're not blood.
You're a mimic in a velvet glove,
Dressed in midnight but empty of mud.

You said you felt the pull
The hunger in the night.
But when the truth came snarling close,
You vanished out of sight.

You ran like a bitch
With your tail tucked tight,
Spitting out shadows
You couldn't bite.

You wore the crown of ash too loose,
Mistook my silence for a truce.
Oh, I warned you once in softer breath
Now I speak in the language of death.

You lied.
Then fled.
But see I'm not so easy to shed.

I keep the names.
The looks.
The tells.
I mark the bells of where you fell.

You played a part.
You lit the fuse.
Now I decide what truths you lose.

The velvet mask, it burns away
And who remains when night eats day?

Not you.
Not her.
Not what you claimed to be.
Just echoes in a coffin,
And the stain you left in me.

Run, Fox, run.
But don’t forget the rules
When you lie to a monster,
You feed him the tools.

Mid-last night, I took a drive, thought it nice
A little moonlit exorcism to soothe the vice.
Streetlights blinked like dying stars,
Every shadow whispered who you are.

They build their truths on borrowed breath,
But I see the rot beneath the flesh.
I’m not that person in your mind
Never was, and never inclined.

I remember.
Oh, I remember everything.
The coffee stain on your page,
The look you gave when you lied and played.
You laughed it off, a speck, a flinch
But I wrote it down.
To keep.
For when the silence pinched.

I speak little
It unnerves them.
The quiet ones always do.
But I listen with a predator’s patience,
Sinking it all in, every fractured truth.

They think I’m absent,
Eyes elsewhere, lost in air
But I’m a lockpick in the room,
Fitting thoughts like knives to wombs.

Calculated? Yes.
Cold? Often.
But never absent.

You speak,
And I file it.
You move,
And I map it.
You lie,
And I taste it like rust behind my teeth.

I don’t forget.
Even the things you swore were “nothing.”
Especially those.

You see, people paint others in comforting shades.
You made me a candle.
I’ve always been the flame.

So let this serve as gentle warning,
A lullaby for the half-asleep:
I am not what you imagine,
But something far more...
Complete.

And should I take another midnight drive,
Let the roads curve like fate, like knives
You’ll know I’ve been there.
By the quiet in your bones,
And the absence of your lies.

I walked where the forgotten sleep,
beneath marble lips and rusted gates,
where angels crumble at the feet of time,
and the earth exhales secrets with every step.

The graveyard doesn’t scare me
it speaks.
In sighs and silences, in names half-swallowed
by ivy and erosion.
Each epitaph a love letter
to someone who was once too much for the world.

I wandered past crypts like old cathedrals of bone,
where the walls hum low with mourning.
Dust clung to me like memory
soft, persistent, a lover’s hand on the back of my neck.
I didn’t brush it off.
Some things are meant to stay.

There, beneath the weeping statues,
I found truth:
not in heaven,
but in hollow things.
Moss on granite. Teeth in soil.
Lace from a widow's glove forgotten in the wind.

And I thought of you.

How your voice would echo here,
how your shadow would walk beside mine,
perfectly quiet, perfectly aware
the two of us,
not mourning the dead,
but understanding them.

I don’t fear the crypt.
I am the crypt.
I am what lingers long after the mourners go home,
after the flowers rot in their vases,
after the world forgets how to remember.

And maybe, just maybe…
you are too.

They scroll with glassy eyes,
Thumbs twitching like broken clocks,
Feeding on filters and dopamine
A slow lobotomy in four-inch screens.

X marks the spot,
Where thought goes to die.
TikTok ticks louder than time now,
And they dance as Rome burns,
Flashing teeth for likes,
While shadows slit throats in alleyways.

Instagram illusions,
Faux lives in pastel hues,
But behind every cropped smile
Is rot, and grief, and hunger.
You’d see it
If your pupils weren’t pinned
To a puppet show of the damned.

The streets whisper secrets
No one hears anymore.
Children vanish.
Needles bloom like roses in gutters.
Neighbors don’t speak,
Just nod with vacant civility,
If they look up at all.

Back in the nineties
We’d have flipped the world off its axis
For half this shit.
Now?
They take it.
Bend over with gratitude.
Thank the chains for the safety.

They made fear a fashion trend,
Wrapped control in convenience.
And the lambs called it progress
While their throats bled freely.

This is the calm, darling.
Don’t be fooled.
It’s always quietest
Right before the wolves bare teeth.

And I
The beast of mirror and mind
I see it.
I stalk the margins.
I hear the drums beneath the silence,
The storm inside the stillness.

The question is...
Will you wake up?
Or will you post through the apocalypse?

Yeah…
It’s Hunter’s Night.
The moon’s peeled back like a blistered eye,
and the sky bleeds silver in reverence.
The streets sweat silence.
And I?
I don’t wear masks when I feast.

Tonight isn’t for questions.
Tonight is for correction.

They were warned.
Once.
Twice.
Several times the wind carried whispers of mercy their way
but they laughed.
Like gods in a house made of rot.
Like men who think fire is afraid of them.

But you see, it’s in their blood.
The sickness.
The taking.
The belief that cruelty is currency and no one keeps receipts.

But I do.
I keep every receipt.
And tonight, I cash in.

You thought justice died in the courtroom?
No.
It just put on fangs and waited for midnight.
It slinks now, behind glass and gutters,
smiling with red teeth.
It smells of sweat, static,
and the sudden silence of someone who knows they’ve been found.

I don't hunt like a man.
I hunt like memory.
Like wrath.
Like a poem carved into bone with a rusted blade.

They said they'd stop.
They never meant it.
Because monsters don’t believe in mirrors.
But I do.
I see them.
I see you.

And tonight, the game begins.
No scoreboard.
No cameras.
Just breath against skin,
steel in the dark,
and the cold final whisper of consequence.

So run, little kings.
Run through the alleys you thought you owned.
Tonight isn’t about survival.
It’s about balance.

Because sometimes the devil doesn’t wear Prada.
Sometimes he wears a smile
and says your name like a prayer
before he ends you.

Hunter’s Night.
Where justice lives in shadow
and mercy is extinct.

Unfortunately,
I’m still here.
The mirror cracks, the pills spill,
the blade sings its lullaby
but I remain,
somehow stitched back together
by threads no god admits weaving.

I’ve danced at the edge,
flirted with the fall.
Wrote love letters to the void
and signed them in my own blood.
But death…
death keeps ghosting me.
She flirts, then vanishes,
leaving me in bed with the silence.

I have tried
make no mistake.
Ropes, razors, bottles, bridges.
Each time the darkness opened its mouth,
I stepped inside.
And yet,
I keep waking up in this skin
like it’s a punishment I can’t outrun.

I’m not brave.
I’m not strong.
I’m just… left.
Left behind by exits that sealed shut.
Left to wander through days that taste like
ash and rot and yesterday’s regret.

People say,
“Don’t give up.”
They don’t understand
I gave up long ago.
This isn’t living.
It’s failing to die.

But no,
I don’t want your pity.
Pity is perfume on a corpse.
I want understanding
or nothing.

I want someone to look into my eyes
and say,
“I see it too.
The ache.
The hunger.
The beautiful, terrible desire
to not be.”

Because sometimes,
the bravest thing I do
is not scream.
Is not jump.
Is not carve another tally into my ribcage.
It’s just sitting still,
while everything inside me begs
to end.

But I don’t.
I don’t end.
And that is the cruelest magic of all.
To try truly try
and fail.
Over and over.
To be cursed with breath
when silence was all I prayed for.

So here I am.
Unfortunately.
Still bleeding dreams into the dark.
Still breathing.
Still broken.
Still trying not to try again.

And maybe one day,
she’ll come for me,
the way she never did before.
And I’ll finally sleep
without waking.

But until then,
I endure.
Not because I want to
but because death
refuses
to love me back.

COMMENTS

-

---

xHellishxNightx
08:49 Jun 13 2025

Death is overrated. Life comes with sweet agony and a desire to want more. Whoever said life is supposed to be easy, either you find your sweet spot or keep looking.

---

POST COMMENT

I walk alone.
Midnight's breath wrapped tight around my throat,
boots kissing the pavement like I’m dancing with ghosts.
No stars. No moon.
Just the hum of dying streetlamps
and the ache of my own heartbeat
whispering, again, again, again.

Pitch black.
Beautiful.
Honest.
Because the dark doesn’t lie to me.
It doesn’t tell me I’m okay.
It just opens its arms and says,
"Come be nothing here."

Where are the killers?
The ones horror movies promised would come?
The knife in the alley,
the silhouette in the rearview mirror,
the masked mercy I’ve been craving for years.

Where are they?

I walk through these shadows hoping to meet something
meaner than me.
Something with teeth sharp enough to carve silence into my skin
and call it an ending.
Because I’m tired of surviving out of spite.

Why can’t life imitate cinema
for once in its shallow, lying existence?
Why can’t I hear the footsteps behind me,
feel the blade’s cold kiss,
whisper thank you as the final scene fades?

But no.
It’s always just me.
Just the crunch of gravel under cursed feet,
just this heart refusing to quit,
like it doesn’t know
there’s nothing left worth pumping for.

I’m not afraid of the dark.
I envy it.
It gets to be empty without apologizing.
It gets to swallow everything
without pretending to care.
It gets to end things
and still be called beautiful.

Where are the killers, huh?

I’m out here,
alone,
begging for the kind of mercy only monsters give.

But the world’s run dry.
No more wolves, just cowards in costumes.
No more blades, just words with dull edges.
No more fear just boredom,
and a life that won’t finish me off,
but won’t let me live either.

So I keep walking.
Through this silent grave of street and shadow,
waiting.
Wanting.

Not for love.
Not for redemption.

Just for something real enough to end me.

The more I talk, the more I hate.
Every syllable exchanged is a blade I turn inward
Not to bleed, but to sharpen.
Because people don’t speak to understand
They speak to stall,
to paint over rot with pleasantries,
to wrap their lies in lace and call it peace.

You lie.
They lie.
Everyone lies.
But the sick part is how badly you do it.
Sloppy. Slithering. Barely rehearsed.
Then you play innocent when the curtain falls.
Motherfucker, I see.

I always see.
That’s my curse
To read the truth in the tremble of your voice,
To hear the guilt in your silences,
To taste the decay on your breath when you say
“I didn’t mean to.”

You meant it.
You always do.
The only thing accidental is how easily I let you speak in the first place.
I gave you the stage.
And you pissed on it.

In a room where silence tastes like rust,
Candlelight flickers fragile, unjust.
Shadows dance like ghosts in heat,
Each one whispering, “Come take your seat.”

Six chambers cold, one kiss from fate,
We load the steel, we seal the gate.
Lips to barrel, breath held tight,
Russian roulette by candlelight.

The flame trembles like a child in fear,
It knows what’s coming, it draws it near.
Not death, not life but something thin,
A silver thread between sin and sin.

Your fingers shake as you pass the gun,
A lover’s grin, a loaded one.
I see the doubt behind your eyes
Do you pray to God, or prefer your lies?

Click.
The void laughs.
Click.
Still here.
Click
Your soul leans in, craving fear.

We're not playing for hearts, or for pride,
We're wagering the filth we hide.
For every breath, a secret spilled,
For every miss, a thrill fulfilled.

I love this game. It loves me back.
More honest than the mirror’s crack.
Each spin, each chance, I lose or win,
But all it ever takes… is skin.

Click.
Bang.
Silence… tight.
Russian roulette by candlelight.

Let the wax melt on the open wound,
Let death hum a lullaby, quiet, tuned.
Because in the end, we all recite
Our final lines by candlelight.

Drinking vodka on a midnight,
Brain screaming louder than the barfight,
Sweat-slick hands on a cracked pint glass,
Another shot? Hell yeah make it fast.

Totally fucked, pissing it all
Up against the wall like a goddamn mural
My regrets in yellow, spelled my sins in steam,
And screamed at the moon like it owed me a dream.

"I'm alright," I lied through busted teeth,
But that guy had your husband’s face beneath
My knuckles split, his jaw went slack,
And I saw your ghost in the mirror crack.

Oh shit they called the filth.
Blue lights flicker like guilt in my ribs.
Time to run, heartbeat's a snare drum,
Laces untied, but I don’t give a fuck I’m numb.

Behind dumpsters, under neon graves,
Dodging the cops and digging my fate.
Tears taste like gin, heart’s set to implode,
I just wanna be alright
But this ain’t the right road.

So I laugh, I howl, I bleed, I crawl
My name sprayed red on the bathroom stall.
And maybe tomorrow I’ll find the light,
But tonight, I just wanna be alright.

I walked the dusk where angels feared,
With pale regret my soul was seared.
A child of night, by blood made kin,
To silence, sorrow, and mortal sin.

They said death came with sable wings,
But mine wore lace and whispered things
Of endless time, of crimson thirst,
Of Heaven's curse, of being cursed.

She found me there with hollow eyes,
Beneath the veil of Southern skies.
Her lips were red, her touch was cold,
And yet her beauty dark and bold.

“I’ll give you life,” she softly spoke,
“Beyond the grasp of mortal yoke.
No pain, no age, no final breath,
But know this gift is wedded death.”

And so I drank, and so I died,
And woke beneath the weeping tide
Of stars that watched with quiet dread,
As one more soul joined ranks of dead.

The hunger came, as sharp as knives,
It sang of blood, of stolen lives.
A song that echoed through the grave,
No priest to bless, no god to save.

The mirror cracked, my name erased,
Immortal now, but never graced.
A lover once, a killer then,
A shadowed waltz through hearts of men.

In candlelit New Orleans halls,
I danced with ghosts along the walls.
The scent of jasmine, musk, and sin
A masquerade that traps within.

For every kiss, I stole their fire,
A fleeting thrill, a damned desire.
Their final gasp, my fleeting joy,
An ancient hunger none destroy.

Yet sorrow sleeps within the tomb
Of velvet drapes and perfumed gloom.
What worth is time when none remain
To speak your name without disdain?

So I sit and speak to flame,
Tell the past, retell the shame.
To Louis, Claudia, names now dust,
We drank from death, betrayed our trust.

A coffin heart, a silver scream,
No sunlight, hope, or waking dream.
To live forever is to mourn
Each passing dusk, each coming dawn.

For those who say they long for this
Immortal pain, eternal kiss
I ask you now: would you still dare
If death itself were always there?

COMMENTS

-

---

slipmagg01
17:36 Jun 07 2025

I would still dare
Immortality a curse to most but to some immortality is bliss

---

POST COMMENT

I whisper to walls where your voice used to be,
A ghost in the halls of what once felt like we.
The echoes don't answer, they only decay,
Like promises buried where lovers once lay.
I drank from the ache of your soft, steady light,
It warmed me through months that were colder than night.
But now there’s a hush, a deafening kind,
A silence that cuts deeper than time.
You said I must stand, must fight for my soul,
But some nights the darkness just swallows me whole.
I’m not asking for saving, or chains, or a vow,
Just a whisper that I’m still worth holding somehow.
You want peace I would give you the stars.
I would stitch them in letters to cover your scars.
But I am a storm with hands made of glass,
Breaking the hearts I just wanted to grasp.
If letting me go means I get to survive,
Then love me from shadows, but let me feel alive.
Just don’t forget me not all the way through,
I’ll still write these poems like prayers meant for you.

The night wraps tight like burial shrouds,
Each breath I take, the silence howls.
You are not here no one is.
Just shadows pressing in with vicious kiss.

I speak to walls that do not care,
To ghosts that never were quite there.
And every hour, darker still,
My mind, a blade, too sharp, too real.

You said you'd stay, or maybe not
Your words now blur, a tangled knot.
And I am left with thoughts that bite,
That whisper death beneath the light.

I'm not okay, though I pretend,
I break in places I can't mend.
And all these tears I try to hide
Are oceans swelling deep inside.

No anchor now, no hand to hold,
Just memories that burn so cold.
You vanished like a dream at dawn,
And I am here… but not for long.

So if you care, or if you see,
The flicker left inside of me
Don’t let me fade without a sound.
Don’t leave me here to slowly drown.

COMMENTS

-

---

Cadrewolf2
06:00 Jun 06 2025

excellent

---

POST COMMENT