The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The Truth Of Online Friendships *Letter To The Prying Eyes*
23:47 Sep 30 2012
Times Read: 428

Stranger whom I've never known, I see you lurking in that void.

Behind a screen, behind a fiction and your prying eyes

which tear my heart apart, leave me gasping for a question;

an oh so vital question which if answered could destroy reality.



Do you wish to be my friend? Or do you wish to fuck me?



Your answer, *very much a lie* depending on it's form and mannerisms,

will destroy me; As it's destroyed me still, a thousand years of rebirths.

And reality will collapse, burying my perception, trust and innocence in

a heap of waste, where my life so very much belongs.



Am I not a feeling person? Hidden beneath this text and plastic screen,

do I not have emotions, hopes and dreams? Does my life matter little

in the grand scheme of things? Am I not a human being?

Simply a blob of text to deceive and exploit until my heart is close to bursting

and my trust in humanity has all but disappeared, neither wanting nor willing

to continue the charade. A stone's throw away

from jumping into the pool of worthless souls who took their lives in a crescendo of passion.



...And what reason does that leave for you, dear stranger and your prying eyes?

You who takes your friends for granted, *assuming you have them* and abuse their trust and hearts a trillion, never considering once their feelings.

What does it say about you?



If tomorrow they should all just disappear, would you finally realize the fool you'd been? Would you realize your faults in an aria of despair and loneliness? Or would you simply jack yourself for all eternity? As you've done so previously without a care?

Oblivious to how empty your life truly is.



Well...I am a feeling person. You may not see my face, or hear my voice but my feelings are real. My heart ache is real, as well as my smiles. And I want you to feel them; dreaming of caring, as I would care for you a truest friend.

And reviving trust and friendship in a world where friendship's obsolete

and replaced with lower standards by the twitter and facebook generations,

but I still feel and I still dream;

and as long as I do that, I will feel immortal to the apathy and the hate,

the ignorance and the bile; seeped in corruption and degradation of all

communities and heart's functions, and I will outlast it all

because I'm an emotional being.



Oh so tired am I of the bull shit. Of being used, abused, mistreated and taken for granted. I am an emotional being. Tired am I of caring with all my heart for someone who just brushes those feelings aside as if they're nothing. Tired am I of worrying for the health and safety of those so far away and dear to me, only to realize that their hearts don't reach for me at all.



I am tired of it. I am sick of the bullshit. I am sick of the lies! I am an emotional human being, not a thing. And with those prying eyes of yours, oh stranger who lurks upon my little part of the web where I am merely text, if your eyes have failed to seep their blood upon these words, then your heart is truly dead indeed and your mind, a pile of jello.



I hope indeed that somewhere exists a person whose eyes do not simply see an object or a block of text but instead a person with dreams and a heart. A person lonely for a friend and thirsty for a hug. A person whose heart's alive and awakened towards the pain and suffering of others.



A person that isn't you.



For I am an emotional human being, which is much more then you can say for yourself.



So I ask again *whether there be man or woman out there*, their prying eyes at my haven, my creation, where I live inside this screen.



Would you like to be my friend?

Or would you simply like to fuck me?

Methinks The World's Gone Mad
20:51 Sep 24 2012
Times Read: 441

Methinks the world's gone mad,

in temperament, instability and insanity

run amok for lack of nurses,

.............................................ponder in despair

the lack of patients.



I forsooth the murmurs of the sleep,

I forsooth the whispers of the quiet

I unsheathe illusions of the peace;

fore acquiesce for all but reason

leads to death

......................of conscience and the brain.



To thine fears, I bring a sign

of literality,

destiny, self written

banner cloud I raise'd

to watch the blimps dance around it.



Through dumpster steels do I find a sweetness,

I've no need for chocolate cake;

the wind is it's own reward

and warm sunshine, parting over clouds

exposing dark horizons

from skylines,

where one can barely see the silhouettes of birds

teasing freedom;



......that is reality entertainment, without the entertainment;



The static noise removed from eyes,

and ears liberated;

not a victim but a person

whose individuality, segregated

was forced into a new reality,

the true reality,

the reality forgotten by the texts of learning;

and I relish it.



....................But methinks still the world is mad.



I've witnessed segregation sights a plain,

walking;

broad daylight passed between them yet there was no sign.

Decent human beings, separated every which way

and pulled;

till a sea of torsos and dismembered parts just wander

unaware they're still attached.



I've witnessed hunger,

personally? Yes;

but still there's more in this ocean of segregation.

Children's schools becoming soup kitchens,

Restaurants becoming refrigerators

and refrigerators becoming houses.



Since time began, no part has been as disenfranchised

as the stomach, just barely beating out the female body

as a whole. But even women know hunger and feel that abuse,

that apartheid;

......................a wall which stands invisibly yet plainly.



Anyone could see it if they wished, yet no one does.



I've seen people murdered and eaten.

............................There's no call for it,

we're a vegan species. And yet

there it goes, that common sense of old;

it didn't have time to stop by and say hello.



I've seen people beaten for being poor,

I've been beaten, as have all

*cept the bigguns* though that's a matter of resentment

towards one's self. Kind of like of like the homophobe

who fears divorce en-masse while cheating and abusing.



If only he'd admit he's gay;

Perhaps he'd see that divorce in himself.



Teaching can be a dangerous tool when from the mind

of a teacher, never learn'd to think.



...And so we mosey; to and fro

like ants in any anecdote. A self caricature of our world's problems

methinks;

...............and without just cause or reason for it all

separated by a wall, standing invisibly yet plainly;

adding to the skyline and those enviable birds of shadow

*do they even exist at all?*

passing by, the crevice grays and leaving white packages of love

behind them;

...................packages for the rodents or for the very desperate,

the packages that lighten the darkness with proof that not all is hidden from the sun.



In the deserted pavement I climb to raise the newest banner

reading: "IF YOU DISCOVERED, *BY SOME FORSAKEN MEANS* THAT ALL YOU'D EVER BEEN TAUGHT OR BELIEVED WAS JUST A LIE, THEN HOW WOULD YOU EVER KNOW THE TRUTH AGAIN?*



Sprung from the roof, I could see the sky. A grey monochrome and twas cloudless like a canvas never drawn, a blank slate as grey as any pavement except alive and nurturing. I set the banner high, like a kite and it dazzled in the breeze as I secured the line to a nearby billboard.



So I gazed high at the banner undulating aloft, and watched the blimps dancing around it.



Methinks the world's gone mad.

Kill The Pit Bull Killers Night
20:42 Sep 22 2012
Times Read: 447

"Trick or Treat is over little bro,

time for you to get on home,

I'm a stay out till it's late."



Said the masked murderer before his date.



For tonight is "kill all pitbulls" night. The day the psychos just made up, Their facebook page is swarming with loons, and their exchanging animal torture ideas.



As if they can't just dress like Jason or Freddy and call it a night,

they have to act like them too. I suppose they'll practice pelting each other with bullets to see if they can't die.



Stabbing each other to see if they still feel after they've stabbed their fill.........of innocent dogs, that is.

Breaking into animal shelters, homes and lurking into every shadow, will they kill the owners to butcher the animals?



The night is rife with blood and arson, shall we add animal abuse to rap sheet as well? The army of masked yahoos, skipping and hooting as they exorcise their fantasies of ending life, and the police will be nowhere in sight because they're out beating helpless protesters with batons.



...And so it's up to the owners and their friends. The animal lovers must defend, the dogs from the dog killers. And if you agree, if you know a dog owner or three, tell them to beware on Halloween night, that some psycho is coming for their dogs.



For on Halloween, it's "Kill the Pit Bull killers, night."

The Cold Set Cyanide
19:33 Sep 22 2012
Times Read: 449




Languished feelings, never said

to family or friend;

...........................did they ever truly exist at all?



The lonely grave never dug

where buried lie the lack of hugs,

the rejected loves,

the tears never dried;

never accepted

the heart that died.



A premature birth a buried,

that the parents never knew;

.............................that truth

they murdered with their cold set cyanide.

Arsenic-OS
21:15 Sep 20 2012
Times Read: 454




Greetings children, class is here

...and so comes lots of breakfast cheer;

..................................with arsenic-os

your healthy choice for breakfast woes;



....................................they are to die for.

Do Fish Need Borders?
21:06 Sep 20 2012
Times Read: 456

Do fish need borders, those

...lines filled with prose

echo;

gills and gasps abode.



I'll find logic in it's code,

that guy with chalk *Joe?*

drawing lines in sand and stone.



But in the effervescent sea, those fish *we*

whose flapping fins in undulate breeze

leave;

...no room for lines nor chalk drawn maps,



the tides are too fast,

and who knows?

When those chalk lines will erode...



We fish don't

nor do we need them.

Morbid Tome: First Verse
21:12 Sep 10 2012
Times Read: 461




Your underdeveloped eyes;

they squint in the brightness, unsure and unaware

that there is darkness behind it.



Out of fear you loose your cries,

you struggle with stunted limbs for a taste of clarity

as your jerked out of soothing darkness and into confusing light.



You feel the grasps around you, held in place

and yet unsure and unclear

who or what is there;

it is all so unclear in the blur

as your eyes struggle to cope with the light,

you find the confusion only grows

and as your eyes begin to accustom,

you realize painstakingly that your mind never will.

Morbid Tome: Second To Last Verse
20:57 Sep 10 2012
Times Read: 462




The felt o' twilit ashen black,

with orange highlights cast a back

where creak the hinges, door ajar

welcome sir;

.................your burial garb.

My Yard
20:37 Sep 10 2012
Times Read: 465

My yard is cast with graves.

A lugubrious mess my yard's become.



...With six thousand tigers buried there,

twelve thousand deer are buried there

and eighteen acres of corn...



they're owned by monsanto,

standing upon the graves of corn before.