Tuesday, November 1, 2005


My roses are dead
the violets are too
come try to kiss me
and I will bite you

With greyness of the sky
and ground so black
I come out of my grave
for a midnight snack

I Lurk in the hills
travel in form by the night,
the blood of a victim
flows faster with fright

These roses are black
I press their skin to a thorn
the blood that comes forth
is what I adorn

Love lost is not,
I never sip on my food
their blood is now in me
so no need to brood

My hunger now quenched
no longer chilled to the bone
surround by millions
but I still feel alone


Pete Mitchell said...

Um Rob; don't get me wrong --if you wrote this yourself it's great: really creepy and powerful

...but are you feeling okay? Seriously. It's awfully dark for you.

Karen said...

wow....you know this is my kind of stuff....very good

Rob said...

I was in one of my rare dark moods.. and yeah I wrote it. Don't worry about me... situation normal AFU!!! LOL