The Vampire Ix: the Fix

This cold steel
Tastes like caramel
My Saviour
Oh my saint

This bullet  
Is my caravel
For this trip  
I cannot wait

This wholly
Unholy suture
For my deepest
Darkest pain

Is a beautiful
Lack of future
To quiet down
My mental rain

Vainly I hunted
For the devil
For the man
Who ruined my life

Now accomplished, I sit
With this gun in my mouth
The hunt’s over
The devil is I
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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