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Mrblack 6d
I walked the dusk where angels feared,
With pale regret my soul was seared.
A child of night, by blood made kin,
To silence, sorrow, and mortal sin.

They said death came with sable wings,
But mine wore lace and whispered things
Of endless time, of crimson thirst,
Of Heaven's curse, of being cursed.

She found me there with hollow eyes,
Beneath the veil of Southern skies.
Her lips were red, her touch was cold,
And yet her beauty dark and bold.

“I’ll give you life,” she softly spoke,
“Beyond the grasp of mortal yoke.
No pain, no age, no final breath,
But know this gift is wedded death.”

And so I drank, and so I died,
And woke beneath the weeping tide
Of stars that watched with quiet dread,
As one more soul joined ranks of dead.

The hunger came, as sharp as knives,
It sang of blood, of stolen lives.
A song that echoed through the grave,
No priest to bless, no god to save.

The mirror cracked, my name erased,
Immortal now, but never graced.
A lover once, a killer then,
A shadowed waltz through hearts of men.

In candlelit New Orleans halls,
I danced with ghosts along the walls.
The scent of jasmine, musk, and sin
A masquerade that traps within.

For every kiss, I stole their fire,
A fleeting thrill, a ****** desire.
Their final gasp, my fleeting joy,
An ancient hunger none destroy.

Yet sorrow sleeps within the tomb
Of velvet drapes and perfumed gloom.
What worth is time when none remain
To speak your name without disdain?

So I sit and speak to flame,
Tell the past, retell the shame.
To Louis, Claudia, names now dust,
We drank from death, betrayed our trust.

A coffin heart, a silver scream,
No sunlight, hope, or waking dream.
To live forever is to mourn
Each passing dusk, each coming dawn.

For those who say they long for this
Immortal pain, eternal kiss
I ask you now: would you still dare
If death itself were always there?
Solaces May 27
I've been marooned here for the past 4000 years.
I've heard the wars and the endless building above.
The shadow canals of the stars are now broken.
I can only fly about at night here.

The sun is my destructor.
Light of decay and chaos.
They're no shadow canals here to protect me.
I must heed the night and listen for the bird's morning calls.

As the birds sing.
I must get to safety.
Bathe myself in shadow.
Away from the sun.

I have studied far and wide.
The knowledge here depicts me as an angel.
I will use this knowledge to feed.
And they will let me without consequence.
Gabs T May 18
She moves down the path
Sure but careful
Pausing to drink from the stream
Lapping greedily as if it never fully quenches her thirst

And as the doe eyed creature makes its way into the clearing
Unsure but terribly trusting
She flashes her fangs at it
The fawn rears its legs and freezes before fleeing
Understanding she’s as old as the forest itself

She hastily retreats back through the trees
Embarrassed at her showing of animalistic urges
To her castle

Where a young traveler seeks employment in the fields
And the grapes hang plump, expectantly on their vines
Like lilac blossoms waiting to be harvested at their peak

Which she will come to realize the traveler smells like,
Among other more carnal pleasures

The harvest would be crushed tomorrow
The juice extracted, flowing, red
Until all that remains is a purple hull

She leaves only the skin of the fruit
To be discarded
Inspired by Carmilla and Lady Dimetrescu
Oliver May 7
With razor-sharp teeth, I bit,
Gnawing deep until I struck bone.
But hunger drove me past the snap—
I feasted 'til there was nothing left,
Only splinters and marrow and silence.
It wasn’t 'til then I saw the ruin—
And I wasn’t sorry I’d eaten my love.
I'm writing a vampire story and wrote this about the character. my vampires have shark like teeth instead of only two sharp fangs. they also eat human flesh and drink human blood.
White Owl Apr 21
Mostly I sneak about under cover of night,
Fulfilling my awful aims away from broader sight,
For no one must suspect
The beast that dwells within their midst.

I am a master of concealment.
Smart and somber fabrics shield my skin
From the painful sear of daylight,
And my complexion, I keep like porcelain—
For no clean and delicate doll
Was ever suspected of reveling
In baths of hellfire
And drinking them up as greedily
As the desert soil drinks up a monsoon.
This façade I employ lest the people discover,
And ****** before me their holy images,
Burning me as if with a branding iron,
And driving me far from their dwelling
Into solitary desolation.

For in truth, I am an agent
Of offense and pollution
To all that is wholesome and good.
I entice man to share my fate.
He invites me in and I infect him –
The Imago Dei – with Death.
Driven by this curse, this unholy hunger,
I live only to eat –
If one could even say I live.
There is no glory, no beauty in this state.
My eyes are as gleaming stars
And my skin is as a moonbeam,
But the flesh beneath is always freezing,
Always cold and always screaming
In agonized starvation
For more of what makes it sick,
The only warmth it knows being gleaned
From the bodies of its meals.
A quietly blaring reminder to me
That I am the Dead walking.

This night begins as many before it.
My clothes blotted crimson with fresh sin:
The stain of another’s flesh.
The latest meal to leave me ill,
And yet more hungry still.
I tread the gray and lifeless streets,
My dead frame mustering no defense
Against the chill of night.
All is dark and still, as no sound, no soul,
And scarce a light the night gives
To interrupt the feast within –
The Hunger consuming all thought,
And the Cold consuming all feeling.
My spirit sends out a silent plea
For, if not some kinder release,
A second death.

My wandering stops before the chapel,
The only structure affording light or color
To Nyx’s bleak realm.
The candles and lamps still all alight
Send cascades of rainbows
Surfing down upon beams of gold
Through the glass mosaics
To the ground outside.
Something in this ethereal beauty
Grasped something in my soul.
I wished to crumble, to sob,
As I felt so alien from whatever it was
That infused this light to make it good.
Yet I wished to float, to hope,
As here it was, pouring down before me—
Onto me.

Looking in then from afar
Through the colored glass,
I saw behind the altar raised high
On his execution tree,
The image of the Lamb
With sorrow carved into His face
And wounds painted onto His side.
My eyes stayed fixed to that solemn sight
Till they ran with salt.
“They say You came
To make clean the Unclean,
To wash away every vile stain
That corrupts Your Image,”
Said I.
“They say You were sent
To ransom the Dead;
To free the captives
Of Hades’ rotten grip.
To bring bread and water
That ceases all thirst and hunger,
And gives Man second life.
Were You not?”

As the question left my lips,
I heard from around the corner
A creaking in reply.
Curiosity spurred,
I crept around to find
The doors an inch ajar,
With a widening sliver of golden light
Pouring forth from within.
Such a peculiar glow it was,
So pleasant yet so frightfully strange.
It did not burn,
But was rather as a balm,
Or a mild, warm rain.
There I stood for many moments,
Rendered motionless
By a blend off sedative calm
And paralytic fear,
Until, carried on the streams of light
Came a gentle whisper to my ear
That spoke the sweetest, simple words:
“Dear wayward child, enter in.”
Apr '25
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