selene-vampire

Like a sullen dream Bitter fate coils its arms around my soul Ever lost in the windfall of destiny, I feel my spirit shatter. Like nostalgic memories, prophecy consumes my conscience Etched upon my mind is the predicted future So grim, so dire! I cannot take this burden... lift me free! Since my childhood, visions of what is to come Has seized upon my psyche Such hallucinations, such imaginings! Engulfed in tragedy, how can I liberate myself? With this terrible weight I struggle through the present Knowing how its decisions will affect eternity I exist in two seperate times, how I wish otherwise! What is a prophet to do?

Vampiress, vampiress, what do you seek? Denying the sun naught during night do you sleep? somethings are forbidden; you yourself said so seeking truth rather than lies that fill the blood that you sow

We run through foggy marshes of miracles laughing in mist everything around us is vague but, what can we do, the night is miraculous we are in love Behind our prancing feet there is a band of pristine silk it is trail of the travels in the miracle it is the fine silk of memories woven by the silkworms; the synapses we know that these visions will fade with time; all memories do (should we hold back?) but, what can we do, the night is miraculous we are in love When I first saw you in the tundra of my life your eyes were so bright they filled my entire vision I could see nothing else your spirit came to me it came as a key

Lana stared at her book, trying to burn a hole through the yellowed and creased pages with her eyes. She hopelessly pretended that she could see through the object, that she had eyes that could x-ray right through it, but also hoped that the book would hide her. It was incredibly futile and not to mention pathetically stupid of her to believe such a thing, that a 3 by 5 collection of printed fiction could hide a 5 foot 3 inch girl weighing 103 pounds. Lana moved onto another tactic as she heard the voices that were hardly hidden by the thin, plywood door come closer to where she was sitting in a cheap, hard, and unnervingly uncomterable chair

"Do you, or don't you?" I raised my eyes to the tear-filled azure orbs of my girlfriend, Tsukino Usagi. I didn't know how to answer her. So I remained silent; stoic. I was good at that. Maybe if I behaved like this long enough, she would think her behavoir childish and stop insisting that I answer her question. "You can't answer me," she said, flatly. She looked stunned. Struck. Like I had reached out an slapped her across the face. That same kind of haunted look danced in her eyes. Tears ran down her pale cheeks. I felt something tear inside of me. I was still reeling from the shock of her first question, that I didn't acknowledge what was

you said I was beautiful it wasn't enough you said I was smart it wasn't enough you said I was kind it wasn't enough it wasn't enough you said I made you complete not complete enough you said that your life revolved around me it didn't revolve enough you believed that you'd never hurt me you didn't believe enough when you told me that you'd never hurt me you didn't mean it enough but most of all, my darling, you didn't love me enough you weren't kind enough you weren't smart enough you weren't enough of person enough to say no you weren't enough of a lover to be faithful you just aren't enough anymore not enough to lo

There was a slip. It was just something small, sort of insignificant. Something vulnerable. Something wanting. Then there were two vulnerable, wanting humans. And then they entangled each other in the vices of their kind. A yearning for freedom, love, support... The lust that plagues the lonely. A crash of waves upon the sand Could not hide this transgression No matter the pain Nothing is worth the fall from truth The luster now Fades with time Left with conscience, Empty is all. And then there was a third, vulnerable, wanting human. Who wished for morality, fidelity, and honesty. And the emptiness inside Was the wake of wr

Captured by the sound of shattered glass a sweet epiphany moved to tears by the vicious felony melodramic windswept siloquoy full of grief for the impovershed given to tremors and ill-fated health craving an audience for the histrionics the i-dea of it all the very idea torn by conflicting duty torn only by a heaving bosom wrapped in priviledge and arrogance loss of proper mourning finery driven to a heap of sobs forgetting everything but an infant's appetite for coddling