Revamped.

byronic expressions. punkaroo, sometimes when you stay up too late you become every insomniac in the city. you learn to love yourself for being so lonely.

i felt duluth was my blood and my breath

but i also felt trapped in my body.

so i started writing again.

i can't just not write, you know.

with the pen i bleed lucidity.

without it

well- then i'd just bleed

i guess

...no, it didn't make sense to me either...

 

so here we are again, storybook prince

once, because i'd read enough old vampire stories to know what was up

i'd forbidden you to ever be in my room at night.

i didn't want you flying through the window then leaving.

instead we wandered outside, through the clouds

painting stars secretly and waiting for the wind to reveal our works and words. 

i loved to see your tsepesh grin,

and your embered eyes just before you slept,

tired and spent on cool sheets.

 

i never felt like i could actually touch you, you know.

instead i collected frogs and leaves and stones to lay at your feet,

and kissed a thousand promises onto your hands, to save for later.

 

but if i ever really touched you it would break the spell,

and i never wanted the story to end.

i could never get through to the end without closing my eyes and yelling "stop!"

stop, don't go. i'm trying to tell you to stay.

but i don't know how.

 

 

When the ancient vampire Marius comes to Lestat in a dream and accuses, "You act on impulse, you want to throw all the pieces in the air," Lestat shouts in return, "I want to affect things, to make something happen!"

 

but i can't really explain it to you this way.

will you be my lover villain?

the yes or no doesn't really matter.

on the insides of my wrists and along my neck, I wrote.

Terrible, terrible love poems.

Don't go.

Reviews

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

you've certainly stayed true to your word when you spoke about bleeding lucidity
I used to have a vampire obsession, back in my early years...before and after the religious experiences
I like this metaphoric concept you have going here..I don't know if I can do this poem justice in a review..I'm distracted by a phone call I have to make and I'm generally feeling hormonal like a woman on her period
oh crap I didn't mean to turn that into a crude pun-type humour, but alas

all I know is I can relate to this..you're pretty much ripping out the weeds and making a pile and letting the mind breathe and see the herb garden of truth of how everyone feels when they are in love..it's the essence of it

so often that feeling is directed at the wrong person, because we have lessons to learn, but it's dawned on me that you've basically described this being in love feeling, this essence, in a way I'm pretty damn sure I never could

it's like an orb that pounds away at the inside of your chest cavity..it goes on recon missions searching and finding the proper resonances, gods, goddesses the potential of awesome experiences

but one thing in the poem tugs at both sides of an idea/concept that's been stuck in my head for a long time..I can return to that later..another day

I read something interesting about exploring the loneliness as guidance for wisdom and understanding..I think maybe to be ready for a romantic type soul mate one has to know how to embrace that seemingly cheesy concept of self-love and awareness

if you really write "terrible, terrible love poems" in secret, you are officially my hero

it's a completely f'd up and awesome feeling, being in love in secretly or openly..

it's also challenging to take yourself out of a poem like this and be objective and poignant and etc..but you struck a chord, and I dig said chord for all its silly melodiousness and dissonance and harmony and sub-harmonics and various other musical jargon buzz words

[.]

~ wow... i don't know where to begin... for me, this is an epic... deeply philosophical... very sweetly written... there's magic in every image... it's impossible for me to pick lines that especially moved me because they're all so moving... everything is just perfectly stated and under-stated... poetry flows in you and through you to the heart of the reader... it's as if you wield a magic wand... and yes... this is my favourite piece... out of all that i've read of you so far... it's as beautiful as spring... and as moving as winter... and i just know that all those love poems are ravishing... i don't think you could possibly write anything terrible... even if you tried with all your might...