Because I Keep Posting Blogs No One Reads

White hot lightening flashes deftly, lingering on tendons and vessels; spiraling up electric courier systems. Crimson horizons against milky backdrops even the rain is scarlet here.

Sorrow is all consuming if you let it

Floating still in waters so near ice they burn, silent and empty – like boats left floating on the ponds of Roanoke. Physicality is life and you cannot spell life without lie although what is the cost or worth of it? The intake is acid maybe oxygen feels this way to flatworms and the gurgle surging up this throat clutches to it. Thrust back your head. In willing maybe sinking is probability.

Maybe Ophelia had it right…

Slow in gravitational trail, crossing endless fields of cream that garnet honey flows as rivers do. Saccharine leisure you can count the tally in groups of five is seductive. The world may not be a vampire but it certainly hungers for something. What is left to give after heart hopes wishes dreams soul?

Filled with an emptiness full to bursting and yet without feeling. The Nothingness was not some idea in book forgotten long ago. If you put your ear to the wall you can hear it coming for you. They lied when they said it was termites. And no one anticipates it; regardless it comes still – like natural disasters of the soul.

Pour out that tide of verve, rich in vibrancy with notes sweet as honeyed nectar flowers spill to bees.

It will break like waves cresting walls they shouldn’t be able to climb and will sweep swift over all, consuming pooling engulfing drowning. Escape futile from a stampede as overwhelming as the coming depths of oceans god hasn’t known. Cascade like waterfalls in damned villages from christian fairytales. In reality christians are vampires, drinking the blood of life. The puddle matures into pond as the form collapses, colliding with marble in vein attempt at stillness. That white escarpment bleached as bone blinds and that sanguine pond spreads as oceans do when ice ages end.

…The slowing clock stops

Sojourn

And in this space there was a time of raging curiosity. I walked a line, bedraggled time of all its saints and sinners. And harrowed down it shuffled off mumbling incoherencies; of childish pride and foolish game and trivial pursuits. Left alone I sauntered off to woods lush and deep, and sought to find some piece of mind in a lost path to lead me far and wide.

A misbegotten attempt at getting lost proved fatal, and so I sat a while starring in the pool with Narcissus. We drank some wine and laughed remembering well-worn follies. After a head first dive we floated on the darker streams of being and chatted up Ophelia, who somehow proved a king. And in the shadowy abyss we sat before her throne; of black pearls, agate, onyx and obsidian stone while she reigned high above with her glimmering crown of sapphire and hematite.

The sights we saw, the games we won, The Carnival of Dark Delights – was ours a time in merriment and well deserved escape. And in the deepest tresses of my soul did stir a lust for wandering. And so I bid ado, to friends and lovers alike, and with well wishes and promises of return left in the middle of the night.

A sojourn with nocturnal creatures, pale and full of fire, we laughed at the worlds creation of the vampire. We paid the ferryman to cross the river Styx, and I peered often over board to query the deceased on all the things that they had learned and their old memories. Upon reaching land we ventured off into the realms of hell, to visit Hades and sit and talk a spell. He told us marvelous stories of long lost enchanting things, and dazzled us with treasure unlike any we had seen.

We traveled through the orchards of luscious pomegranate, and picked and ate our fill until the stains were dark. We danced with both his wife and mistress who held sweet secrets of their own, and bequeathed fine trinkets for our journey home. The festival we had to admire was both dark and bright as black fire and burned us to exhaustion. So with our carts of gifts we slumbered as we rode into the realms of vivid familiarity, safe in the stewardship of Hermes and his staff.

I Monster

What is it about us that so encourages us to want to find and destroy that which we fear or do not know? I have often watched movies in which the werewolf or vampire is sacrificed for the seeming benefit for the rest of the town – only to wonder what exactly it was they were sacrificing. Or even the anti-heroes. How can you not watch V for Vendetta and find yourself convulsing when V dies at the end – fueled with a furious anger and an all consuming righteousness.

Do christians honestly believe the devil lives in the form of a goat – cloven hoofed with slatted eyes? A concept they themselves created in their beginning by “laying all the sins” down upon the goat and sacrificing it to their then blood thirsty god. And if so why is it they cannot see what it really is – their own darkness refusing to die?

Why is it when everyone else is thrilled to see the monster die, a part of me dies as well. Do you not agree that it is the darkness as much as the light that determines who you are? And if you are content to deny a part of who you are – why then should you be trusted?

On Being A Vampire

I suppose I have been rather cantankerous of late... And-Or rather morose and encumbered with malaise. Stunted I lie lethargically recumbent. Bent on doing nothing - or rather sleeping the life I'm with away. Trapped in a memory, I'm sleeping with ghosts again. And maybe avoiding being my usual self.
It's almost like I'm hiding from something. But I have nothing to hide. However, maybe it is my lack of being so precociously blatent in my nature. Although it is something I find as natural to myself as breathing or taking a piss. Vampirism. The state of being and indulgence.

For some reason I'm drawn to memories of my coming out as wiccan. Declaring proudly with determination as I clutched that candle staring into the mirror in the middle of the night. "I Am A Witch." Stating:

I Am A Vampire

brings that rush back. That sweet symphony adrenaline ignites your body to humming. For some reason, as of late, I have been filled with a burning need to randomly meet people - shaking their hands the way those within the lifestyle have become accustomed to - and stating. "Hello. My name's Miranda, I'm a vampire. Nice to meet you." The want to climb fire-escapes to the rooftops of local buildings and shout it to the heavens.
I find it strange in that I have never denied I was. Nor have I ever not answered the questions about my consumption/desire/arousal around blood or biting. Quite forthcoming I generally tend to overwhelm. I come on strong.

You're thinking cup of coffee when it's more like Tsunami, a mile high and climbing.

I miss the shitty group of friends I had when still in the camarilla. When I still dealt with camarilla's. It was fun. And yes, we were kids and stupid. And we did a lot of things you REALLY should NOT do, or try, or even consider when you're high out of your mind on narcotics even hard core addicts avoid - but they were good times. They were fun. For all the wrong reasons - and a few right ones. We were like a family. Just as fucked up as your average, and less crazy than your Springer types.
The nights were wild and illegal. Sharing was especially casual, insanely so as not a one I know of practiced safe sex if they were getting any. And while not convinced of our mortality we were still smart enough to know better, and crazy enough not to give a damn anyway. Of all bodily fluids swapped, blood was probably the wisest choice we were making. It was definitely the one we traded on with most reverence.

And I do not advocate the young vampire scene we were living, it's not as though we had any role models. Or any real idea of what we were doing. Like most things at that stage, some of us lost touch with the scene while others went off the hairy edge into Crazy Town with it.
But as friends go, they were right fine and I miss them. And most of them weren't douchebags. I really only remember getting hurt over one or two. The rest just grew away. And maybe there were more bad times than good, but I cannot remember them. Only the hazy golden glow of a by-gone era and memories of being emboldened and content in my nature. In our nature. Celebrated as it was, if only for a little while.

I'm not too sure I want to attempt to enter the lifestyle given my current location. My metro is growing, but insofar as acceptance of differences, we're still living a Leave It To Beaver state-of-mind. The thoughts are crowding my mind, I'm just not sure I can swing the freight.
I'm not looking for a husband, a significant other, or lover.
But it would be nice to find a friend. To connect with others who's ideas of love and passion and romance run among the darker hues of the spectrum. Logically, I rationalize that given my position it is an unlikely and overly ideal dream.
Still, when the night is full and the moon is high I wish and dream...

Come out, come out - where ever you are.

Some Secret Sin Crept Upon My Lips And Unwittingly I Uttered The Utterly Reprehensible…

I raged silent against a violent world. All of it sticky remorse and translucent pain. So unsure and yet secure and well aware. My heart picks up a notch. The slightly unnoticeable flush betraying the giddy up of a rhythmic enthused muscle. A light in the eyes evinces and undermines the rest. Marbled body- cold, unyielding steel mimicry. Vampiric ancient a statued self but somewhere within blood rushes. Hot pooled seduction rushing through cable systems working a little too efficiently.

You only smile at them. I’m screaming – quiet, quiet, shh – and the silence of it fills volumes. A polite grimace is all I’m bequeathed but I snatch. Child of Ethiopia with a steak. The slightest hint of recognition and nuclear reaction causes this cold star to burn hot. Chameleon black to vivid red.

Burn with a yearning futile as a child building a tower to heaven. Tears like acid carve hot trails along marble — canyons in wake. I’m only breathing to see if you notice. Curious. Hurt. Wanting. Hating, loathing, impeaching every notion. I see you look at them, watch them, converse with them, touch them, smell them. Green eyes veiled, still as prey. Angst climbs tendons like electric charging batteries. Frozen in the instant–beg for an ending far away as Armageddon. I’m lost in my own iron tranquility and my silver tongue slit my throat long ago. Soft sighs mock the cries I make that cannot escape my python throat.

Velvet lashes flick liquid diamonds swiftly from traitorous doorways. Hard to breath in the vice grip of self control but I’ve learned naught else. I’m bursting expanding rushing racing to fill all directions. Thundering madness out and away, anywhere but here. I can’t bear to move –to leave–

Silent fingers grip like springs wound tight, steel twisted–clenching vicious. Clutch it, huddle closer. Pain swirls and encircles and strangles that bastard that keeps beating after long requited silence.

How do you fix what you can’t change. I regret not being what you want. I regret not being what you need. I regret being here. I regret – being. And I huddle in awe and fear, pain is sweet lust and I let it linger while your near. You’re palpable as I ache starvation.

I stumble unable to convey the idea so simple its infinitely complex. Light candles to your memory even as I make plans to see you on the marrow. Plans you’ll never know about because you’ll never notice me beyond the passing glance. A gift I’ll cherish even as you regret descending your gaze upon me. Odd scents promulgate the burning flesh as I caress the flame lost in imagery vivid with you. Red poppy among the sea of clover. I’m [grasping, grabbing, rushing] for the safety while eagerly falling into your desire.

A rush to open that red door only to find the light within marks the emptiness of time and space without some semblance of you. Violent angry rush boldly streaks black upon it. Bury the desire– a betrayal of myself.

I will never have you because I can never be what you desire and I’ve nothing left. How stranglely hollow filled with your emptiness. Awe struck and breathless.

Wishing an eternity of this.

Pardon The Way That I Stare

The boy is sitting there. The girl sits there too. But the boy does not see the girl; he is too concerned with the future. Tomorrow’s tomorrow’s tomorrow.

THERE IS NO TOMORROW FOR THE GIRL.

Gollum hollow, filled to bursting with that achy emptiness – thick and suffocating, self replicating cotton pushing at the seams. She’s memorizing every inch of him [the way vampires do veins – softly humming highways of life]. She could crawl millions of miles across his flesh and never be finished. Some glorious puzzle box she’s too terrified to touch.

CAUTION: FRAGILE

That conflagration blazing in her distal digits caused violent seizing, swiftly hidden beneath idle limbs.

How long would this
[THIRST NECESSITY CRAVING WANT HUNGER YEARNING NEED]
go unrequited?
How much longer could she bear it?

Implosion on the horizon, she inhaled deeply – vain endeavor to impart the effortlessly achievable portion of him within her. Mournful, the howl rolling up her throat - swiftly stifled, eruption no more than a whimper.

Whether politely ignored or blatant indifference, lack of acknowledgment proved damaging. Obvious inadequacy spurned her to motion. She could no more tell if he loved her than if he hated her; worse was the utter lack of paths to convey her intentions.

But she could RUN.

Rising like the night she flowed into kinetics, pounding flesh to earth until the night had evaporated and acid seared her veins.

Shimmer

Shimmer soft in deep recesses
Of ebon velvet darkness
Glow darkly
Dim star among shadows
This pale candle
Calls home diamond winged
Lover of the night
Commanding wish
Shall I burn for you brighter?
Beacon from home

Daemon in the Daylight

A golden illusion
Rays of light blinded me
Because I saw him
By the brilliance
Of a burning chariot
Blood born boy
With crystal black soul
Beauty birthed of darkness
Amazed and elated
My breath caught
A rush to touch
This creature of blood and shadows
Sensation so new
All because I saw
Daemon in the Daylight