RUMORS OF VAMPIRES
THE MUSE'S TWISTED KISS
Some would say I suffer from depression. I
would argue that I suffer from clarity, but also from the dark but
beneficial curse of allowing myself to believe there is more to this
world than we have been programmed to believe. It's not just what I
want to believe. It's what I have to believe, or run the high risk
of becoming just one more cog in the grinding machine that digests
our imagination and craps it all out as rhetoric, pabulum and dogma.
On the day I become that, I will shut down the computer and throw
away my writing quill forever.
Lightning takes a snapshot of the night:
dying trees and trembling leaves,
rain frozen in freefall,
glittering stones littering desert floor,
the vampire on the porch swing.
Your love is toxic
yet I hold you
pressed like poison ivy
between the pages
of my fatal mortality.
the venom will end us both.
Life is a fragile trick
carried on the tip
of the harlequin's walking stick.
The bells on his cap are skulls,
vacated by hermit crab souls.
Rumors of Vampires
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