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Holding my pen in my hand

I take my magick

Feel it pulsating through the ink

As it wishes for me to put it to paper

I refrain from doing so

And instead I close my eyes

I see the words wanting to be written

And the barely visible thread

Tying the words together

Into chains of syntax

Structuring them in a way unknown to me

I see the picture behind the words

And I look further down to the soul

Deep down where words are needed not

And where pictures do not remain



It is the heart of the poet

Where the verses and stanzas are formed

In each chamber another idea is born

And with the blood erupting from vessels

Comes pain and anguish

As the raw emotion attacks

Flowing over every organ and muscle

It takes away my strength to write



I wish now I had put pen to paper

And allowed my magick to take over

And write what I was too afraid to see

Deep down in the soul of the writer

The true and raw emotion

That eventually becomes the words

But they are not true to their form

They are mere euphemisms

Of what the writer truly experiences



Believe in yourself and give yourself over

To the true form of the writer

And be yourself with your words

But never give up.

When I look at your picture..

I come to think..

Where are you?

Your laughter, your sorrows

Your love..

I miss you..

I knew that our love was real..

Why didn´t you give me a chance..?

Why did you leave me..?

I love thee, my rose..

Now, I will cry myself to sleep..

I miss my love..

Where are you..?

I stand here all alone..

Alone, without an end in sight..

I feel the sorrow..

I can see it so clear now..

The end is coming for me too..

As I wandered through the night..

I said to myself..

I will join you soon..

I love you..

And another tear fell..

For you..

My love..

Blood.



The smell.



The texture.



The taste.



The combination of wet and dry, sticky and hot, when you rub it between your fingers, over your lips, into your skin, is interesting, exciting, sensual. The very stuff of human life; it is what pumps through our beating hearts and carries itself to our vital organs, carries oxygen to the brain, it is what clots to save us from losing to much of that precious potion should our skins be breached by accident or by deliberate force or by act of God.



The blood is the life.



The sharpness - that hit of bitter metal that itself feels like a blade, then turns to warm, liquid honey as it slides luxuriously down your throat.



Blood is God and God is bleeding.



Drinking from yourself is fine, but drinking from somebody else is divine. That embrace, warm bodies entwined and writhing together, exchanging sweat and hormones, hot, wet flesh getting hotter and wetter. And when the blade slides in, that delicious little cry of momentary pain. Your Blood Doll sees his or her self reflected in your eyes, mirroring your anticipation and your desire, hearts thundering together as they watch you watching the red river crawl over their skin. You lower your head so slowly, drawing out the divine agony of the wait - for you and for them - you revel in the arch of their back as they press their body so hard against yours it’s as if they’re trying to get inside you.

The first lick is fast - just a taste, a tiny ambrosiac morsel that makes you close your eyes and smile. It calms and enflames all at once.



And then you drink.



You drink deeply.



And then you kiss. Hot mouths pressed so hard against each other that you can feel their pulse throbbing in time with yours, blood and saliva mixing and running like red wine, staining crisp white linen like a first-time

Im crying with hate.

My tears are all black,

My family disowned me

Im just a big slack





Im tired of suffering

I don't want to no more.

Im tired of hiding

Be hind my thick door.





I hold up a dagger

I hold it up high

Closing my eyes

Preparing to die.



I drop the cold steel

And fall to the floor.

Crying and screaming

"I can't take in no more."





I don't want to do it

But i don't want to live.

Why can't i do it?

Why won't my hear give?





I trun aroud and i see my cat

Looking in to me saying don't do that!

The cat jumps quick over

something then hides.

Pushing over a bag full

of knives.





I fall to my knees and start to

cry. Crying and scearming

Why can't i die?





I feel the tears flow

through my eyes.

But they are not normal they

Are bloody they stain

My face and the floor.





But they remind me of what

The night is for

And what its full of.



I think to my self i can't die

By a single dagger i can only

Die by the sun light.



But then i think that would

Be to painful what i would

Leave behind the memories

Of my life through the years



I have lived in my way i feel it as

A curse

when you left me i cryed

when you looked back i saw no tears in your eyes.



as for me the blood rolled off my face and made a puddle at my feet.



that was the last time i cryed the blood tears for you or anyone.



when a vampire has a tear its not a clear tear

its a blood tear.



see humans cry alot vampires dont cry if we cry we cry blood.



our body id full of blood and humans our filled with water.



thats why you will never see a vampire or vampiress cry.



our tears stain our face with the blood we cant spare.



if your a full vampire and you can understand this peom then you know why we dont cry.

I WAIT FOR YOU IN THE NIGHT.

TO SEE YOU COME THROUGH THE DOOR,

SO I CAN CURL IN YOUR ARMS ONCE AGAIN.

I FEEL THE NIGHT ON MY FACE AND YOUR HAND ON MY HAIR. I MISS YOU MY AMOR SO VERY MUCH. I GO THROUGH THE STREET HOPEING TO FEEL YOU AND YOUR KNOW WHERE AROUND. COME TO ME MY LOVE COME TO ME AN STAY FOREVER IN MY ARMS,SLEEP WITH ME IN THE BED YOU MADE FOR US. SINCE THEY SENT YOU AWAY I FEEL SAD ,I CRY MY BLOOD TEARS FOR YOU.I MISS YOU MY LOVE.COME BACK TO ME.