The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Disease is a kind stranger,

Plague will not suffice

To burn your wistful thoughts;

Mine to plunder.



This crone shall beckon thee

To bitter pomegranate;

Eat of the forbidden fruit.

Remain under.

Execution is easy,

for the body is a vase;

no matter how you glue it,

whatever cause or case.

It cannot withstand trauma

smashed to smithereens,

nor can it hold a liquid

when fretted at the seams.

A crack, a cut is all you need;

exist, live, then cease to be.

For, the body is a vase,

and execution is easy.

This is the shatter

Such is the scream

Haunting

Pulling

At your dreams



This is the moment

Sweet is the pain

Tearing

Burning

Senses wain



She is the victim

He is the curse

Calling

Waiting

For the hearse



He is the villain

This is the plight

Thrilling

Killing

The girls every night



This is the shatter

Such are her screams

Haunting

Pulling

At his dreams



This is the moment

Sweet is her pain

Tearing

Burning

Senses wain



This is his story

A means to survive

Violent

Bloody

Yet, mercifully...

Alive.

The soft, lamented lullaby

Belladonna, Nightshade

To sleep, to dream, the muted lie

Moonbeams falter, light fades



The wailing, curse'd siren song

Lotus blossom, Wolfs bane

To fall in dark, the night is long

Shattered gasps of blackened rain



Walk the tides, my tender love

Living forests, coral brine

Whilst calling for and dreaming of

Your sacrifice to the divine



Most darling Bella, holds the Night

Awakened by the dawning fright of

Lotus blooms and Wolfish fiends,

Vicious, scarlet, Harpy Queen

This heart is not a home, for

the walls are made of stone, and

no fire's here to warm you from

the tempered, raging storm.



These arms are petrified, and

are leaden wood inside.

Do not expect embraces from

these tender-seeming places.



This mouth is made of wool

wanted by the fool, yet

speaks in such a way that

you'll listen all the day.



Stone cold, the heart once died

then spread to arms- now petrified -

and filled the mouth, such words of wool

befitting only for the fool.

Flee and turn away, my dear,

this is the love of deepest fear for,

when I've gone, all that is left;

A broken soul,

All sense bereft.