A Conversation for Vampires
spiderbaby Started conversation Apr 1, 2005
With your devil’s eyes, you pierce me.
I stand here in my innocence.
I long for what I know to be
a feeling undeniably intense.
I wait, white dress rent at my breast,
for you to drain me of my life,
and silently implore, grant my request.
See, across my neck, I draw the knife.
Drink your fill and take me with you.
Squeeze each drop of my sweet light.
Let my aching spirit feed you.
Lead me to your endless night.
When I am falling, faded, near death
prick your wrist upon this thorn.
After I have breathed my last breath
feed me until I'm reborn.
For I would be at your side always.
Come; give me devil’s eyes to see
rebirth in darkness. End my days
before I change my mind and flee.
The Still Silence of Death's Trick
spiderbaby Posted Apr 1, 2005
Are you visiting old friends today?
Up there in the graveyard?
I sense your sadness, your distress.
Are you reading my headstone?
“REST IN PEACE”
Peace? This is not peace!
Just a preternatural pause in the proceedings.
This is not sleep.
This still silence of Death’s trick.
My bones are clothed in cold clay.
My parchment paper skin
Waits for the sun’s sojourn into night.
You are here again, above.
I hear you.
Night is drawing down on dark wings.
Then my friend,
Then I will push aside my earthy blanket,
Brush the worms from my hair,
Flick the maggots from my suit.
I will wander into town
Seeking the sustenance to pacify the screaming need
That tightens my skinny veins like catgut on a violin.
I’ll spy with my dead eyes
In farms, cottages and inns.
Selecting and savouring
The thrill of the game.
You might be hurrying home
When a fog unfurls around your feet.
A sudden breeze, ruffling the leaves
Might surprise you.
A chill may play up and down your spine
Like frozen fingers on the black keys.
Perhaps your heart, pulsing,
Pushing at your ribs
Will signal to my senses that your blood is ready.
Boiling with fear.
Fat with emotion.
I will step out of the shadow.
A gentleman you’ll think.
Well dressed, handsome.
No spectre here, or vagabond.
Ah, but appearances, my dear.
The seeming sophisticate
Unseemly in his haste to take your arm.
To hold your gaze with eyes so black and deep
That suddenly you will find yourself drifting.
Hands stroking, kneading your flesh.
Your knees buckling
Hot breath on your neck.
Strange words in your ear.
I will be lost in the moment then my dear.
Knowing nothing but gnawing need.
The pain of want.
Blind lust for blood.
I will take you into me
And as the life spark drains
From your eyes
Your memories will burn through my body
Like a forest fire
And as your life flashes before you
Down a dark tunnel towards the sanctuary of your mother,
I will know your soul.
I will possess your spirit.
I will live again in that moment.
Your body I will discard, useless
As an empty wine bottle
I will drop you like rubbish on the pavement
And stride on into my night’s feasting.
Until dawn’s threatening light
Back to my grave.
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