I bled the pendant that she gave me as a going away present
Can you blame me for being numb?
Drops of colors fall and fill the spectral imagery
Painted by tears from the orbs of a muse whose womb is barren

I couldn’t say goodbye
I knelt down but she wouldn’t take the note that carried my confession
Written in blood-flow and semen
If I was sickening to you then, at least now we’re even

I saw a hawk feasting on the remains of a lone pigeon
I approached, it was not fazed but transfixed by the incision
Made by a beak, resembling a phallus
When it flew away I picked up the chain of bones and built you a palace
It still stands as a shrine to our division

These trembling fingers made of porcelain
Has the fever pitch plateaued?
I tap the veins to our telepathy lest the urges be controlled
But when the emptiness feels this wide, I can’t pretend
I need the energy, all your energies to rape the idyll

I’m a vampire for the reverie