there’s someone i know with octopus hair. its all squiggly with the tenticles… bored . still have stuff to do. and some random person i dunno pops outta nowhere and asks for an interview. wierd eh?  so i hafta write poetry now.  any ideas besides the normal death desturction, blood, oncoming death, murder……

oh the ever cold sun shines weakly in the sky.

falling to the dark in moments past.

fall down through the efernal pits of pain, misery, tourture, of course its hell.

wouldnt it be like a lackadasical walk in the park. 

where is this place, a garden.

  take a walk among the free birds of nature and stumble.

yes shall we take a tumble. a beautiful tumble to the nosferatu’s lair.

will this man of the undead turn you?

be the creature of the night.

be the storm of bats. creature of the night.

use the willing victim. take their soul, sip away their life blood.

taste divine the metalic crimson energy driving to the brink of ecstasy.

victim forgotten. the night’s no-life take to the hood

coffin waiting for daybreak.

all is calm. silence is left

disfigured corpses,

is the last trace.


oh yay inspiration is from the vamp stuff Hellsing.


for stupidity note nosferatu is a vampire. big whoop.




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