Psychic Vampires

Psychic Vampires
A Poem by Fae Child


Through our fingers they paint painful memories on psychotic canvases
reminding us what we shouldn't do
Lessons unlearned hunting for their prey
fear overtaking and making us tremble
Watching our reflections in the windows
that look out into complete darkness
We can't see anyone watching us
too busy with our own deformities
We don't know when we're in danger

The fruit of our uncertainty, a second glance in the looking glass
Take a look at life and realize how empty it would be
without them
Their eyes surface and smile through a color created and illuminated
by my own hand
Surviving by suckling every bit of inspiration from my retinas
Plaguing me with fatigue, I need to lie down
Lie down forever and never wake up
Push down and twist to open
pop another one
and wait for silence to take over

I can't create without him but he's sucking me dry
Not quite a boy and not quite a girl
Like no other he holds the power to make me cry
with pain and ecstasy
with the knowledge that there is never another as perfect as him
I paint his image again

Their nails claw at my walls
removing the protective layer I've brushed over the flaws
Only the comfort of each white tablet
could cover my senses again
This isn't love this is only murder
I'd give anything they need only ask
My musings keep me alive and tear me down
My memories erupt into a cloud of smoke
and I don't care

A magnetizing anguish pulls me further into the dark
Cuddling me in the closet and closing the door
Frightened, but this is the only place to be
Smiling like chesires they haunt me reveries
Every song is infected by their voice
every lyric painfully familiar
I twirl with arms and legs fancifully dancing
naked spare the pinhole stars they've poked into my skin
sucking my marrow from slashes they inflicted
To your gods you're always inferior

Wanting to protect them they need us to survive
We're everything they're looking for
they too bury themselves with lies
When your mind is closed they're the only ones
who can pry themselves in
like a breeze leaky windowsill
lost hope for all humanity
The only true beauty in my world exists
against the grain of stark white paper
Smudged with the lines from their shadows
I stole but not without a price
Like succubae they extract all they need from me
and I'll spend my days forever waiting
for another just like the ones before
Inspiring, tormenting my mental state
Maddening me softly until I become
someone's lost Lenore