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The Perfect Beings

Poetry By: Carlet la Lovecraft
Poetry



A deep feeling of guilt, a Vampire's sin never doing either to satisfy her hidden soul or the interwar of her own develished desire.


Submitted:Sep 15, 2008    Reads: 82    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


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.





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