Vamku Do me a favor, Monster -- wipe your mouth when you're finished.
	The Vampire Bee Now there's a chilling thought. A hellish thing much to small to ever be deterred at all by garlic or the back-porch screen. Winging in, its flight unseen, muffled by the downy fuzz that grows in black and yellow rings around the bodypart that stings. But that's not the end that worries me and when I look (afraid to see) -- the droning buzz heard in my room now burdens me with dread and gloom.
Vamptantric Agony to pleasure, pleasure into pain, come 'round, turn around turn it back again. Hold up a mirror to see if we yet live; reflecting back the breath you took, moist wretched lungs still heave and gulp from the pain from the pleasure on the carousel of lust our bodies tossed aloft and spinning til you drain them like the rest with a suck and a whisper and a hand on either side of the pain and the pleasure and the end.
	Vamku Between the flowing red -- here -- and the smooth white -- there -- is a deep black well. Drink.
What the Damned Ones Did Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Damned if you love Them, damned if you won't. Sometimes They pause -- and sometimes They smile -- and sometimes sometimes They just go for your throat. And you're damned damned damned.
	Sinus Headache Well, it was the nosebleed what made me think (I'd sneezed the cold for over a week...) You stood in the doorway with towels and gauze and watched while red swirled into the sink. It made me ill; it made you stare -- that's when I wondered if maybe there was something more to your concern than sympathy and friendly care. It made me ill, you licked your lips (I swear the mirror reflected this.) Though doubled-over, I straightened when your cold chapped lips brushed mine to kiss. Your tongue was salt and I knew why, and that iron-taste was also mine. No gentleness to stem the flow, no luxuries like "setting" or "time." Wet chin, smeared face, cracked tile, weak knees -- how could this have been mistaken for love in life when life and love, bled cheap, just cease.
Vamku Life like creme soda, sipped sticky-red and sweet.
	The Millennial Train The Millennial Train, choo choo choo -- do you ride it like I do? Come to rest at this quiet station, breath the waiting room's last exhalation. Then vanish for eternity -- move on move on, somewhere to be.
Renfield was right Renfield was right about the tiny lives, all the animated bits of dirt, the ones here here here here beneath you. Beneath you? Clueless what we give up to you and how? We are our own vivisectionists we open up our dancing flesh we twist when sliced by your passing glance and keep twisting when we're unseen. Beneath your consideration? outside the circle not worth the time nothing you can learn from us? The suffering of a spider will only surpass its prey's when you pull each tiny leg off, stroke it while it lies twitching by your boot toe -- much worse because you leave it there, just shrug and walk away. (Stoop to gather the little things lift them up to eye level there to see expressions on expressionless armour, sparks behind a slitted pupil, yearning in a clawed gesture. Come closer come closer come closer before your hearts give out, let me give you what you want will you give me what you can.) Renfield knew life only sucks when sucking life is all you do.
On to... Rain City Diary | The Sign Painter's Tale	© leslie H.

home | links | email