The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

September Snow
17:36 Sep 29 2011
Times Read: 494

Oh bench o' mine,

oh home o' thine,

where angels snow

and batons roam.



...To the beat of sirens

and the bitter smile,

where bruises hamper every mile,

I walk them empty roads alone.



The alleyways there house a snack,

for no one's gonna have my back,

September snow, it coats my woe;



...to my bench;

to my home.

There Lay A Thousand Pieces
04:50 Sep 16 2011
Times Read: 511

There lay a thousand pieces, oh they lay

at my feet and there my limbs disjoint to greet them.

Pieces many, piece of glass, to join them always they had asked

with shards of any, shards of bliss

I broken down and floor thee kissed.



The sky grew crimson, once upon

it's yesteryear has come and gone

and took me with it, at least in part;

it stole my essence, stole my heart.



Now dismembered, I do lay

with piece of mind and heart of clay

and blood afoot and shards of glass,

the world has seen it's beauty last.



...For the last time.

Beneath The Moon
00:51 Sep 13 2011
Times Read: 516




Beneath the moon,

...it happens soon and every feral eye with crimson pries

from behind their hollow hideaway.

The slightest snap of auburn twigs, the slightest crackle emerald spriggs;

tis all a hidden beneath the moon.



Beneath the moon,

...a happening, the slightest breath is shattering

and every step you take in darkness leads you closer to the goings on.

Let us trudge, let us amble, let us wander further in,

where every motion made is shadowed, upon the dark and narrow

crevice of the fearful mind, knowing you are spied;

beneath the moon.



Beneath the moon,

...a lurking, barely audible dark hues;

where highlights barely showing through, entrap your eyes

in the blackness, as you try

to find your way. Only to travel further in

to the waiting arms that greet you.

They wish to meet you; beneath the moon.



Beneath the moon,

...further in

you meet the hue of crimson;

feral eyes a nibbling at your skin;

beneath the moon.



-Muahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Infuriation Prose
05:10 Sep 05 2011
Times Read: 525

I stand amidst the lank and stout, fiddling with the door knobs out to doors that will not open. Ridiculous is the notion that the doors were there at all, yet they're standing there a fiddling and a missing with their bows held out. Their tri-tip wings a winging and a swinging at thin air, while I gawk in awe, what manner of insanity did I just saw? What matter of reality still applies to nature's law? I can only stand agape my jaw in awe as I see the world a fiddling and oblivious that the doors they open aren't there. I have to ask if the world can stand to bare a population in delusion, while the world itself's contusion worsens leading to such mass despair, yet still they reach for knobs to doors that aren't there. The lush emerald isles of old, now stand as brown as wart kissed toads and murky marshes filled with life, now stand deserted toxic sites. The forests filled with maple wood and pine, now feed the local neighborhood strip mine, while polluting the air with ghost slaves, whose lives could not be saved. And all the while mankind still fiddles with these doorknobs, vacant looks upon their face. How I stand in awe of this a gawking and the vacant looks upon their face and yet I see them stand a fiddling, a major lot of the human race, a fiddling as if there be no need to have a care. As if all worries disappeared and the world's smallest violin is there, for them to play as they fiddle with those doorknobs to a door that isn't there.