Poetry Wednesday – Strigoi


Strigoi seeking me out
As I run from, run to
Downy softness of my bed
Drenched in blood long forgotten
Still dripping down to floorboards
Warped like dreams of escape
Fascinating in experimental essence
Roaming around unguarded misguided
As I run to, run from
Strigoi seeking me out
In general torrid necrophilia
Brighter than the morgue’s steel
Surrounding me in glimmers
Dance like stars in night
Behind my closing eyes slowly
As I run to, run from
Downy softness of my bed

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 10

Night’s Dress

Dancer in night’s dress
Spinning the moon
Around in marked misery
Waiting for a lover to come
No longer wants to dance
Only for my memories
Ever sinking in deeper
Still with each footfall
Across unseen stages
Dancer in night’s dress
Tipped with blood I did
Fashion on the edge
Of a rusty razor blade
More delicate than perceived
No longer wanting to dance
Dance for only my memories
Fading into shadows
Reaching out like hands
Of a lover in sweet caress
Reach everlasting for
Dancer in night’s dress

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 9


Undeterred by fascination
With the abundance
Flowing toward self
And pages’ birthright
Where stoics squirm
In embodiment’s shepherd
Deserve more than stagnation
Even in uncharted territory
I map out as I dive
Deep into the oceans abundant
All around me, within me
Currents drifting me further
Into all that I desire
Freedom I do crave
Magnetic and ideal
As we seek each other
In oceans everlasting
Their mission to bring me
To welcoming receptivity

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 8


Shield my face from
A million things I
Wanted to say, to save
Within my tears I
Brought to accentuate demise
Breaking along my calves
Bruising and bleeding myself
Dry to hide lies of others
Pinned too long in my insides
Struggle to remove them
Pins pierce and prick in
Their eager vengeance
Wanting to stay as my flaws
When I just want to be
The song inside lingering
Beneath others’ lies

NaPoWriMo 2020 – Day 7


In black robes, they lick their lips
As they move in mass
Toward anticipation of earth
Piling up with each shovel full
Black robes whipping around ankles
Weaker with each prayer
Of not today muttered
With dried cracking lips
Devoid of warm bloody kisses
Earth may be more inviting
Than the truth contains
Colder than anticipated
Such a lover’s embrace
Toward anticipation of earth
Piling up with each shovel full
Waiting to cascade and bury
Weakness into earthy prayer
Never mind if the victim is willing
The earth will have a lover
Black robes or not