Napkins: Rare Poetry and Prose Archives, 1995-2004 by Steve Dustcircle - HTML preview

PLEASE NOTE: This is an HTML preview only and some elements such as links or page numbers may be incorrect.
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.

Undead (via 2002)

 

She is what you cannot grasp
Cannot comprehend
Cannot love
She is like a dark knight
Not one upon a horse
But rather one upon gases
These clouds of the streets invoke her coming presence
And they denote her departure

 

Not quite living and not quite dead
She is the middle ground
The in between days

 

She searches and is searched
For she claims life eternal

 

She is also the life-stealer
A thief
Yet she's generous

 

She is a shadow transparent
Unseen to whom she chooses

 

She looses the chains and binds you to her love
Her hate and angst likewise encompass you
As you hunger she thirsts
She drinks a toast to love
To life
To death

 

She floats like fire
And sinks like a broken heart

 

She's a dream of your nightmares
Yet still present upon awakening
Is she demon
Or is she angel