Vampire Haiku
Do me a favor, Monster --
wipe your mouth
when you're finished.
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 not.
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.
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.
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.
Vampire Haiku
Between the flowing red -- here --
and the smooth white -- there --
is a deep black well.
Drink.
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.
Vampire haiku
Life like creme soda,
sipped sticky-red
and sweet.
© leslie H.
...and on to The Playroom.
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