Journal of the Undead ~Feb 13, 2011
Nothing is quite as cold as my bedroom on an early February evening. The fires long burnt out, you can actually hear the sound of the frost overtaking my windows. With it, the view of the choppy gray sea below me disappears, and I am left with only imagination and nightmares to tease me.
They leave not long after dark, when supper has been eaten and the kitchen once again shines like new, despite the antiquity within its fixtures. They have been with me twenty some odd years, and still they never question.
The cold doesn't bother me like it used to. And the lure of the dancing flames was lost many years before, when my sight was new and my senses misunderstood. Like a wild child of the sixties, I embraced the drug, and all the perceptions it altered. I have learned from my blunders, and now, it is only control of the temptation I seek.
That I like my steaks bloody, shouldn't be surprising. That I enjoy the essence of the beasts that sustain me need go no further than these pages. The confessions I render here, shall remain hidden...until my guiding angel returns. Then I will know my debt has been paid.
I exchange the harsh glare of the electric bulbs for the single flickering flame of a lone candle. In the white light, it is too hard to deny my truth. Some would call me foolish...but since having broken the ties, I need not listen to them anymore. Pale, to the point of translucent, every parched vein much like a spiderweb strung upon my skin. Ashen and hallow, my beauty is but illusion to the eye that dares to look upon me.
As the winter moon rises through my icy pane, so too, does the longing surge within me. If I had a heart, it would beat a frantic tune...but now it is the energy of sin that drives the temptation, for their is nothing left alive within me. The young ones call it hunger. I miss such simple naivety. When I could blame these desires on an urge to survive. Yes...perhaps it is the blood that sustains...but it is power, control, that stirs my insides. This is the monster I have become, the demon who will ultimately defeat me. Resisting the hunt, could well be my undoing.
~Feb 13th, 2011
This particular portion is being served up for OpenLinkNight over at dVersePoets. It's Brian Miller up behind the bar and he's got poetry on tap. Linking up at 3pmEST
They leave not long after dark, when supper has been eaten and the kitchen once again shines like new, despite the antiquity within its fixtures. They have been with me twenty some odd years, and still they never question.
The cold doesn't bother me like it used to. And the lure of the dancing flames was lost many years before, when my sight was new and my senses misunderstood. Like a wild child of the sixties, I embraced the drug, and all the perceptions it altered. I have learned from my blunders, and now, it is only control of the temptation I seek.
That I like my steaks bloody, shouldn't be surprising. That I enjoy the essence of the beasts that sustain me need go no further than these pages. The confessions I render here, shall remain hidden...until my guiding angel returns. Then I will know my debt has been paid.
I exchange the harsh glare of the electric bulbs for the single flickering flame of a lone candle. In the white light, it is too hard to deny my truth. Some would call me foolish...but since having broken the ties, I need not listen to them anymore. Pale, to the point of translucent, every parched vein much like a spiderweb strung upon my skin. Ashen and hallow, my beauty is but illusion to the eye that dares to look upon me.
As the winter moon rises through my icy pane, so too, does the longing surge within me. If I had a heart, it would beat a frantic tune...but now it is the energy of sin that drives the temptation, for their is nothing left alive within me. The young ones call it hunger. I miss such simple naivety. When I could blame these desires on an urge to survive. Yes...perhaps it is the blood that sustains...but it is power, control, that stirs my insides. This is the monster I have become, the demon who will ultimately defeat me. Resisting the hunt, could well be my undoing.
~Feb 13th, 2011
This particular portion is being served up for OpenLinkNight over at dVersePoets. It's Brian Miller up behind the bar and he's got poetry on tap. Linking up at 3pmEST
Comments
having been consumed with the constitution for consumption I genuflect
to your ways
Peace
Can be hard to control
And really delved deep
Really liked this entry at your keep
Thank you for sharing, i did indeed enjoy ever stitch created. Michael T.
well done! (my preference;)
I need a sweater right now, and it's climbing in the 50's this morning!
The power of well woven words. You got me in the gut reading this. It's haunting, but provocative, too.
This could stand for any vampire lore/story but also for a very personal look into an addiction.
Jesu! the power of your words has got my total attention. I felt like I was falling into a dark pit and the imagery is exactly right for the spell you have woven.
Lady Nyo
haunting, loved,
"Pale, to the point of translucent, every parched vein much like a spiderweb strung upon my skin. Ashen and hallow, my beauty is but illusion to the eye that dares to look upon me."
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