The Perfect Beings
We the lesbian vampires do not squeeze glasses and walking
Through the wrong path. We do not fly in drinks
But we set one in front of the crystal forest.
We try to explore our anger against fat clitories and feel the raping fantasy
Of what we miss like a boy.
We allow our orgasmic sense to take over stealing belief in evil magic
From our sex inside out and yell our into the dark imagination
As we deprive ourselves in masturbation incapable of resisting
The inner demon compose of our own domain.
By holding a naked pistol including the ability to hurt ourselves
Making our Vampire's vagina like a muddy pool
And command our victims to drink the last sorts.
What a pity our Great Roman Mother will say
Bleeding by the fake cock with whom we only wish to determinate how much power
In dreams we can hold. We cannot hate men because of that
But their things that stand up like royal kings
And we want to have one if that gift we're able to buy it at R&E.
At least we believe in the possibility of having any given day one
Is there the incompatible passion of making none not by our fingers but by our teeth?
We are able to live in the fantasy world we try to create
Because we are the Daughter of the Vampire's One.
We are the Daughter of the burned Witches.