I gather flowers from the fields
that smell like clumps of rotted weeds;
they crumble in my hands and fall
upon the dirty floor.

I follow men who comfort me
with words only the blind can see;
they turn and in their eyes I find
shadows without form.

I feel my feet sink in the mud;
I wander into dripping blood;
I look around and all I see is
corpses everywhere.

Whenever I look at the sun
I want to hide, I need to run, but
no-one sings a new song
unless their hands are tied.

A Priest creeps from his hiding place
wearing one more eyeless face, so
do you think to kill him
would be the road to Hell?

There’s a woman who hates me;
she’s blinder than the blind can be, I
don’t know hate that eats away
the souls of many men.

Another scribbles with her pen
to make me disappear again,
I reach out in her darkness, and
I wish she’d take my hand.

We need to ride upon the sea
to make friends of our enemies, as
when you swim in darkness you
learn to share their pain.

I’m trapped inside a rusted box
filled with rusted broken clocks;
how can I bear to touch the cracks
that seal me up inside.

Every man has seen the place;
every woman sees through lace;
every gift talks through the wrapper;
life’s just another pimp.

I’ve sat in houses with the dead
where cobwebs hang, where nothing’s said, where
yellow candles, like cold fingers,
point to the attic door.

Some say only twisted lives
would picture women cut with knives; I’ve
never drawn a woman without
piercing my own flesh.

I knew a man when I was young,
a woman with a silver tongue, they
taught me all I know about
the powder and the spoon.

O woman, are you done with me?
And is it time to say goodbye?
I scrub my skin for hours but
I cannot rub them out.

And have you finished with my life?
And have you heated up the knife?
Flowers when you pluck them out
smell like rotting weeds.

Currently unavailable for purchase




child abuse, depression, drugs, friendship, pain, poetry, religion, suffering


  • Matt Roberts
    Matt Robertsover 4 years ago


  • Thank you so much for the feature, Matt.

    – darkvampire

  • Wordslinger
    Wordslingerover 4 years ago

    This is really friggin good. it had a creepy kind of chant to it which made it work. nice work. scary stuff too.

  • Thank you, Wordslinger. Much appreciated.

    – darkvampire

  • Kirstine Dieckmann
    Kirstine Dieck...over 4 years ago

    This is fucking amazing. I don’t know what to say.. it’s just perfect.
    Incredible writing, incredible power.
    I was stunned from the first line.

  • Thank you very much, Kirstine. Glad you like it.

    – darkvampire

  • Bill Atherton
    Bill Athertonover 4 years ago

    Really gets into me. Fantastic work

  • Thanks a lot, Bill.

    – darkvampire

  • frogster
    frogsterover 4 years ago

    Two thumbs up

  • Thanks very much, frogster. Much appreciated.

    – darkvampire

  • msdebbie
    msdebbieover 4 years ago

    Really interesting composition; congrats on the feature xoxo

  • Thanks, msdebbie.

    – darkvampire

  • Arcadia Tempest
    Arcadia Tempestover 4 years ago

    Congrats on the feature …..the darkness of abuse is always a sobering write….
    You write with an intriguing bleakness that draws the reader further in…..x

  • Glad you like it, AT.Thanks.

    – darkvampire

  • reclusiveartist
    reclusiveartistover 4 years ago

    This touches me in a familiar way. It gives me hope that I am not alone. Thank you for sharing and congratulations!

  • Thanks for your kind comments, Lisa.

    – darkvampire

  • Adrena87
    Adrena87over 4 years ago

    This is one of my all-time favorite poems I have EVER read… Absolutely BRILLIANT… Masterfully written… I am in complete awe… yet filled with pride… to have the opportunity to read such an amazing piece! Bravo is too bland a word… to describe how I feel after reading it!

  • I am overwhelmed, Adrena. Thank you very much.

    – darkvampire

  • devotee1
    devotee1almost 4 years ago

    Fascinating read!

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