The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The Killer Path
02:37 Jan 25 2005
Times Read: 833










Lost on a track

stretched beyond the imagination

laying inward

a cry so lingering

the truth

exposing nothing

yet everything

all at once

desire creeping

as sure-footed as

one treads in dreams

washed in blood red

burning like a dark sensation

to have composed and

torn apart from inside

a desolate requiem

or a strange unearthly path

once travelled

now only in stages

an amoeba of isolation

forms shifting and reshaping

Only emerging out of spite

then recoiling back into the subconscious

Lost on us all

the invasion of a past

the sensation

a corner once dignified

spied on by all

such revenge

what keeps one here

and still what never ends

the corpse of ones thought

a quagmire of debated sins

churning like some sordid persuasion

the unrest

in our own souls

will prove to be our death afterall

Lackluster
01:17 Jan 25 2005
Times Read: 835

Beyond this world

what becomes of us

hungry as night

desecrated by day

vengeful beings

hung by our own advances

inpenetrable

honestly needing direction

feasting on ignorance

but salivating for guidance

what chance is there for that here

amongst the wasted

the wretched

the complacent

arising from within us all

as lackluster as the light

burning for recognition

hardly deserving

bastard souls

torrid beings

feverishly feeding

needing to top off

the rush

the sensual abyss

the eternal yearnings

festering within

as cumbersome as life

that out weighs everything

sordid and shamed are we

or without conscience

of the immortal

and ritual like games we play

Trapped
01:08 Jan 25 2005
Times Read: 837

And from the quagmire

washes up bloody

faces accused

rubbed with vengeance

nothing short of somber

the painstaking torment

the mighty backward fall

onto beds of knives

kissing poison ivy again

tongue forked

crooked are the days

lurking are the hours

around every corner

of ones mind

drifting into centuries

feeding off the bread of the ego

of the indecisive gods

the drudgery of it all

as the day slides into night

your head shifts its thoughts

and no backing out of this one

as the moon calls

in a presumptious echo

suddenly your home

it has you

nowhere to go

cocooned in dread

home again

The Recruiter
19:45 Jan 23 2005
Times Read: 845

Time does not evade us hear

Fallen onto ourselves

and onto this earth

Tears without weeping

left stained

indifferent

merciless the way

your hands clasped at nothing

grasping at invisible straws

and their eyes staring without seeing

looking without focusing

perhaps even glaring

feverishly their voices rising

Time does not ever claim them hear

amidst the emptiness of the corridors

unbenownst to any of them

their own timely sin

breaching of a lawful trust

Sanity never stricken

but merely put aside

bloodshed in treason

spots on the makings of a man

shattered sympathy

gleaming with some misfate

a half-life

idling

negligent in his values

or even in his heresy

He stands tall yet awkward

as if meaning to say something

to force the words through his lips

No use in pushing them though

fondling without touching

speaking in riddles

without uttering a simple sound

heaven hath never known of

a solid fool as he

he is mindless and lathargic

a king of his own drudgery

An eviction in the making

entertaining his own pettiness

a warlord of inferiority

has he a complex?

Or is he doomed to his own disease

They fall in line

not questioning

heeding each word he pervades

There is no twinkle in his eye

Hardly a stagnant glimmer or flurry

not a spark

just his deafening undertones

his mindless outcries

speaking of not a thing

and then fading away

his vioce dropping

his look

almost dignified

lost for a second in his intention

he is clueless yet fortunate

gaining respect through

some malignant plight or debauchery

I stand in his shadows

wishing to crawl back from fate

itching for some healing

some banishment from my own

grueling agony

tormented in my terror

held back from the grazing of my own convictions

No mercy still

no fury more eloquent

no rage more distilled

and so frozen lie my fears

as if awaiting some rash thawing

he remains unmoved

not even a twitch

he is ever the statue of ignorance

Happiness In Slavery
08:12 Jan 23 2005
Times Read: 851

In the time and space between

us and them

dividing us still

echoing in our souls

restoring our faiths in one thing

apon our dreams

lay a crust

once swept away

reform overcomes



Process this

you must

call to me and weave

a pathway

leading us at once

clear across the cauldron

breaking past

the gateway

driving us to fear

living in our conscience

numb beyond refrain

damned to lost salvation



So who leads us hear

from dusk to dawn

who lures the spear

that drives us backwards

crawling beyond the landscape

landmines besiege us

becoming our core entity

and I have yet to assist you

in your demise

apon the sanctity



This great earth

a hollow graveyard

I turn to you

taking in nothing

trust burned

spirit sold

I relinquish my sorrow

my undying pain

and am forced back under



Them, with their knife like stares

slicing me with each glare

gashes across the threshold of my

minds eye



Should I go on

faith lost

as the sordidness mounts

I am forced to beckon

to the enchanted kingdom

whom I once bestowed upon my reign

The Killer Inside Me
07:12 Jan 23 2005
Times Read: 858

And so it seems when a part of one dies

and you are still living



are you even alive



and so the time left has been tainted



I can't see behind my life



behind my self



inside



blackness



abandonment



whirling from within



who can understand



or might wish to



and so my bones ache



and my heart



an emptiness



something torn from me



not my chioce entirely



not anyones "chioce"



A part of me dies



still will forever be dieing



laying continuously dormant



like a turbulent storm thats been anchored

for a spell



swollen and enlarging



about to succumb and envelop everything



And now the scolding of the memories



wash me dirty with indifferance



and not a more honest emotion is felt



not a more lethal tear disposed



collecting in my sanctuary



pelting my heated head



baked from within



seared as if to burn away everything



one last touch



hollow



a crimson smear



I am helpless to defend



not even remotely empowered



so stay away



my trepassers



who trudge on my day



and throw pity into the dawn of it



shame on them and their bloody haste



I am sanctioned by my own rage



like a walking, oozing open wound



drunk by my destiny



sanity in ruins



going through the motions in suspended pretend



if these walls could talk



the sweet walls



like canopys of carmelized flesh



stretching, devouring, towering



all encompassing



it's not just rumured



but all too promising



my knees deep in sin



the glory we denounce rank in



the bile and the piss one can thrive in



then as we sow our oats



and crawl from oblivion



what is there



too much of nothing



short on substance



a brigade of ignorance



and blunt sharp shooters



throwing daggers in the wind

The Heart Of The Hunted
00:29 Jan 23 2005
Times Read: 864

Suffering in my flesh

trapped in the folds

you disappear

as do the hours

than reappear as butterflies

unveiled is my horror

a faceless man

forked tongue and

he lies beside a river

knee deep in sin

I suggest

he’s a southern gent

a true charmer

not to be he is evil

throwing me dagger like glances

he is swallowed in misery

wading in a pool of ineptitude

I sympathize with him for a moment

then I wish him dead

And the frost on the trees

and the frost on the trees

and the amber leaves and weeds and grass

the forest ahead

never appears the same

what's new is old

never mind the rain

or it's persistence

traveling with me are my thoughts

keeping me company

behind me is a graveyard of memories

I killed along the way

suffer my desire

the creek of my empathy

gutted and dried up

so as is my fear

numb to all other existence

even to a higher power

wonder how to keep going

as I am living but dying inside

seeking my savior

is she pile of crisp autumn leaves

is she the sap, a sticky patch of reverie?

is she a twig I trampled some miles back?

is she the stream I drank from or a puddle

I treaded through?

She will show her face

some day

maybe in a strange yet familiar place

knowing her will bring me no solace

fortunato I may call her

dead to the world

my drudgery

my heart of splinters

freeze-dried and heavy with tainted blood

and bloated vessels

Some of her words might prove healing

or her ways maybe spiritual

me a lost soul

clinging to anything

sufficed to find meaning

in the ghoulish gloom of my

labyrinth like trail

hard pressed to salvage something

my sanity

am I but a fool?

or will I ever find me

perhaps I was gone long ago

a shell is what remains

I can only save what’s become of me

white light

somber and sorrow stricken

meager and limp

like a hawk with a severed wing

And the times are wasteful

they bind us and suffocate us

they seal us off to the dawn of the day

I with my wounds I once prayed

someone show me the light at the end

Anyone bring me hope

carry me the rest of the way.

Is there an end to this ominous oblivion?

locking me away

fear for the sake of fearing

hollowed are my screams

my grievances

dismal like the day

falling back upon the cold steal earth

Then hide as I like

finding you in this bitter world

a sparrow, stowed away from the chill of night

or a long last kiss

to keep the demons at bay

jettisoned

saved only by the madness in humility

you are one but you lay down with many

you have fought your way

I am a dreamer who has floated along

stumbled on obstacles along the way

and the frost on the lake

and the frost on the lake

thicker than the fog

overtop like pea soup

voices scatter

as do my vices in this pending hour

the braver I feel

the more my guilt drives knives into me