The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

~...And yet... Hate?~


Pictures. Thoughts. Memories. Photographs.
Feelings. Emotions. Hopes. Promises.
Music. Gifts. Forgiveness. Loathing.
Shattering hearts. Healing bruises.
Gaping wounds. Festering Truthness.
Chaos in coping.
Methodically self sabotaging.

Stepping backwards through time
Running toward that fresh new thing
Not for all the love of minds
while loving trends without the think.

Missing things you don't remember
but remember you hate the things that I did.
A heart is a fragile monster
causing disaster alongside the mourning.
Repel it, a gangster as it extorts
deports
exploits and destroys...
Obliterates passion
and takes with it reason
and empathy, feeling like
what could now matter
since you've now changed your mind.
But who could have changed? I wasn't there.
Why do I care?
Clearly you don't.

Or do you? who knows.
I don't.
I won't.
I can't. Would I?
Time won't.
How could I? Heart stump.
Merciless ravings? I won't.
Mimetic depictions of loving the hating?
I don't.
I jump at conclusions
in hopes of occlusion
within my minds hearting
that guided misloving
that keeps feeding hating.
within that now harrowing
emptiness creeping inside what
was once my land most lovingly
traveled expanse of your minds
Eye...

Now blinded by words
And Deafened by blanks
Monsters draw their swords
at the humans under the bridge, in thanks.
The prideful gratitude of unearthing the hidden
riddled life ridden
to death with lies
beneath lie of what had been but shouldn't
for the lie fell through
and lied again.
Webbing us closer
OH WHERE TO BEGIN

Place us in music?
Condemned never to sing.
Place us poetry?
But its such a frail, sickly thing.
Place us in pages?
Well... As you wish.
Now place us in memory?
Ahh... now that's the coldest dish.

Ice for what was left reeling
in space and naught healing
Wounds did fester
and who did pester
As friends grew haters?
Not true? Then to WHOM shall I cater?
Nothin was sacred enough to nurture.
Sabotaged love was in your nature.
Stolen hearts skipped a beat for sure
And in wisened decrees absence secured.

Fro and to. to and for fucks sake I lost count.
And in seething pain you think you could surmount
Kept returning coldly to that promised place.
Where pain felt was not real if it had no face.
So the smiles were held cheaply,
where emotions ran quite deeply
and forgotten them completely
with a ton of lies so seemly
kept in order so that steep-ly
Mound would not crumble
under pressure met through mumbles....
Whispers...
Secrets...
Wishes...
Declarations... of love.