Today’s Poetry lingers like a vampire, my words penned in blood. I am weakened by the drain; both spiritual and physical as the essence is drawn from the darkest regions of my being. Weak and desperate I cling to what is left of life. Heartbeat shallow and faint, eyelids made heavy, like lead I struggle to keep some focus as I fade.
Slipping into that misty place of shadows, between the living and the dead, formless faces swim past wearing diaphanous pale white lace, I should that I could fear them for they are the Reapers of the mind. Thieves sent to steal the words that I would give to you.
In closing my eyes I begin to drift. I hear a faint voice, it rings hollow like the water dripping on a piece of tin in an abandoned warehouse. Again the voice calls to me, again I struggle to see the face. Slowly I feel myself coming home, coming back. In an instant I am looking at you, it was all just another dream.
I am home now, safe within the confines of my room with its familiar sights and everyday sounds. I am glad to be home, where I am safe from the Vampires of the mind
My poetry lingers like a vampire by Richard Allen Saare
July 8, 2008 by Subculture Books
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this is my favorite of your work.
Thank you, I was telling a friend that as I write more of my novels and write Poetry, 28 in the last 6 days, I feel like all the stuff in my mind is slowly playing out and there is a void left behind. In time I guess the void will fill with more ideas. Sometimes it leaves me tired, sort of drained emotionally though,
Richard Allen Saare