Image for the poem Sad Movies

Sad Movies

With the soul of the Vampire taking my hand,
a heart cold as stones. Sad movies,
make me cry, creeping with a fetid breath,  
bathing in death's gothic twilight.  
Return to me Annette Funicello.  
Seeing you in my Schizophrenia.
Like a drug addiction feeling the rush burning,  
within my lusting animalistic veins, dripping
poetic cyanide, feeling the deranged psycho,
rattling my cage.  
As the hunger grows, twilight over your rest,  
worthy of my taste for finger-licking breasts,
sad movies make me cry.  
Written by PaleSkies
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