Gosh

VAMPIRIC

I starve ache hollowed out. I will not feed
though teeth core burn from throb referring pain.
I have not killed and will not kill again
even from hunger. Am too dry to bleed
though wet from lust. It is not blood I crave.
Nor will I seek their worship and refuse
if offered. Ecstasies I will not choose
nor suck throngs empty, rule not nor enslave.
Elderly, limping, tired. I will not eat.
I will be what the years have made of me
nor drain their white bared generosity
supple and smooth and red and salt and sweet.
I will not change and I will pass the test
Remain myself and fade into the west.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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