I need something sweeter than your
violent love, something softer
that folds up like white origami
in my cotton pocket, yours is
the covenant of monsters,
mine is the flock of sheep,
and darling dead vampire,
you are no longer my moon.
I am my own sun, a star.
And my light is a lovely
If I am rich in anything,
it is in good company.
Psychic vampyrism, which is a known technique of white and black magickians alike, is the practice of feeding upon the spiritual energy of other persons, and sanguine vampyrism is the act of drinking human blood for sustenance. Most people who practice sanguine vampyrism consider drinking blood to be nothing more than a particularly potent way […]
via The Psychic Vampyres are the Real Vampires — V.K. Jehannum
She has a look in her eyes of smoke and flame that pins you to the spot Examines and categorizes you ally threat equal or simply beneath her notice Penetrates your very core sees all your secrets even the ones deep down that you keep from yourself She is a steel trap […]
via Eyes of Smoke and Flame — Brave and Reckless
I scratched my itch I packed my bags I didn’t laugh I couldn’t say a word They were already said I held in the jungle I swallowed my confusion I didn’t see the condition I couldn’t see the barriers They were already built I walked away from the illusion I quietly closed the door I […]
via February 8, 1992 — Overflowing Ink Boulevard
A bit of danse macabre and le petit mort from my high school novel. Written at 18 – the battle of me and my muse. Self-insert as fuck. I still am impressed by my creativity, if not artistry, back then. Beware of demon sex and gore and banging the Grim Reaper and, of course, Mister Crowley. Allister, my name, is just Aleister spelled better.