vampyrbrat

mommy

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Love always, with power. by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Love always, with power.

A thousand miles between and an ocean of tears to cross. The ache is ample between us -- within my heart and that which you hide within your soul. Let us travel the world over, cross vast seas and meet in the middle. A crashing of bodies with the strength of tsunamis. Yes. And a clashing of minds so intertwined. Oh, a whirlpool of imaginations shall burst from within us -- engulf us -- fantasies shall bubble, shall level us with cries only heard and meant to be at pristine levels of... intoxification.

Of Sound Mind by vampyrbrat, literature

Moving Worlds by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Moving Worlds

Passion in the spinning of worlds. Passion in the merry ringing tones emitted from my throat . . . from my every fiber. Passion. To learn the dance of passion, and the strong, the dance of Heaven's Winds, is a yearning that my eternal soul aches for, would ache for ages to know. Be a woman. To be a woman. Through love, loss, and heartache, strength pulls us through. Grace, in this there is grace in the clumsiest of creatures. You find it in the melting of hearts and the flitting of thought -- like bees among flowers. It's in the tears she carries upon her lips, in the re-settling of her hair in the wind... Grace. Inspire her pass

Silk on Silk. And Sin. by vampyrbrat, literature

Taking Advantage by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Taking Advantage

Sitting up into the late hours of the night is out of the question nowadays, being that every wink of sleep is a reprieve from the waking world, and dirty diapers. I find it hard to imagine life without him, but I remember. Things. Some things, like floating through a memory, the past, some place shrouded in fog, I remember these things, these times only, ever so often when the music sings a mellow, sorrowful tune. I seem to fly through my memories, to places I've not seen in what feels like ages, and I remember things, so clearly, all the inconsequential things, and nothing. I remember a past riddled with everything I never wanted to be

cant break me by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

cant break me

You tie your angel's wings on with frayed ropes and walk among dust devils with your old denim and 'I'm-missing-a-few-buttons' flannel shirt. You pretend. You wear your face in a grave solemnity that only the broken can attain with such emptiness and smile with a pain that's bearable only to the dying. What are you, to pretend to such? I would say you dead, but for the pulse at your neck and the sway at your hips. I would say you anything but human, if I didn't know you better. Who are you to me . . . but me? -can't break me- jenney.aiko.hardman 10/04/04

There is no priority by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

There is no priority

There is a priority to life that is engrained into each and every one of us. Life and living, to nurture and survive is what the priority of life is. Now. There's a crossroad that appears in some, where one life intersects with another. In this particular case one life is hard-pressed to go on living, just starting -- taking flight from the nest, so to speak, if the other said life is to come into the picture. So where does the priority go: towards the continuation of the life that exists, or the life that has yet to enter the world? You may lay no priorities here, so I believe. Life is the priority, now how is this decision made?

rolled in heaven by vampyrbrat, literature

did you hear something by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

did you hear something

There are some nights I lie awake and the only sound I hear is my frantic heart beat and the pitter-patter of memories running around my skull -- bludgeoning my skull, breaking my skull. I lie awake at night and I don't even hear the wind dancing with the trees, the crickets singing on a whim, not even the cows in the pasture on the next block -- though, I know they're there. I don't hear a thing, but the whisperings of fear the grating sound, and the dessicated fingers proding at me, grasping at my lungs; so I'm gasping for my air. I don't hear a thing, but slithers: myself writhing on, myself writhing in-between, the sheets that thought to

It Pains Me So by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

It Pains Me So

There's a shine on the window pane makes it difficult to see in I can't see, can't touch her -- no, there's no finding her again. That reflection that I see, here, in this window pane is somewhere so far away from me -- so far, so far away, so far from her reality; So far from the her I used to believe. Now, all I see, all I believe, is a reflection in a glassy window's pain. 6.27.2003 jenney.aiko.hardman It pains me so

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Insubstantial by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Insubstantial

I cry because I need to feel you breathe on me . . . It makes me ache, not hearing your heart beat. If I could write my heart out, I would -- but then I wouldn't have a heart left to me to speak of. I wanted to have your arms around me just to have them hold me closer to you. That's what I wanted, but I lied, said I wanted sex, because I wouldn't allow myself to feel. To care. Love -- Irrelevence. I sit in cars and feel insubstantial because you're not in the driver's seat next to me. Insubstantial, and nothing, but lost to the wind. It is what I feel. And I feel I know a bridge has burned, it's the second one now . .

Wrong side of the window pane by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Wrong side of the window pane

I looked out the window and I saw summer crawling in the process of sunset. Saw three birds hopping, bobbing for bugs -- gobbling my heart. It hurts me beyond reasoning to be on this side of the widow pane and not in the midst of living. Everything's shadowed in gold and it's a pity I'm not out there -- because gold looks better on me than the silver of dark. For a few moments at a time at sunset and sunrise the world is plated in gold, gold at sunset is like the innocence of a child when he yawns before he sleeps . . . and at sunrise like the luxurious guile of slow opening eyes as life wakes to morning. Innocence is

Lost it all by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Lost it all

All I want is my mind in my possession again, back from all my bitter dreams and semi-sweet fantasies. If I can't find any answers in your eyes, if you won't even let me look into them anymore, then what's the use? No, my senses must be mine again. My -- ah, my. My, my, my, and my -- oh, my, I've lost my thoughts somewhere between here, you and nowhere in particular. Left my heart up in the clouds . . . oh, no. Left in my other pocket, couldn't find it when I needed it -- lost it with my other thong. Oh, my. Dear, no. I seem abound with sighs. Oh, but ah, it's just the wind between my ears -- now, where did I put my

A pleasant conversation by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

A pleasant conversation

I've got your pleasures in my pantry, soaking in the honey pot. Let me apply you a second skin, just to lick it off you -- spend a minute or more sucking at you for the residue . . . I'll leave you bare and utterly raw from the pain your pleasures shall bring you to. I'll run my fingers over you like goose down feathers from exploded pillows falling to the ground -- so soft, and have delightful conversations with your skin and your sensations, chatter 'til the dawn shall break, or you. Have the deepest conversations, where you start to penetrate . . . can you feel my tongue on you, the back of my throat maybe? I'll put the pressure on, drag t

trying to feel a longlost feel by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

trying to feel a longlost feel

I miss the feelings I used to describe: the way I'd like to watch the stars dance as I spin beneath them, the way I'd like to fall into the sunset or soak up the sunrise, the way it seems to be like a new self-discovery everytime I put pen to paper -- fingers to keys. Now I look, and I seem to see my words resemble a re-utterance of my minds entanglements. No, there is no feel, to feel. Now, if only I could drag out my inabilities and beat them to smitherines . . . a writer's block may drive me insane, but a feeling block will stop the blood in my veins -- and I may need that circulation to live. Can't live like an Ice Queen

how sweet of you by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

how sweet of you

I'm sitting here and eating and instead of food I'm tasting you and all your spices, and sweet is the scent I remember sweet is the feel of you against me sweet is the feel of your chest to my hands -- sweet is the feel of my face burried in the hollow of your neck. I reach to you in dreams and hear your voice fading, softly, still speaking -- not to me. But of me. To her . . . no names. I'm tasting you, and you fill me to bursting, and more. I may never escape from you, and I may not even care . . . for sweet, ah, is the EVERYthing of you. 6.21.2002

Insane Is Good by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Insane Is Good

Four post bed, blood red silk-satin sheets, burning candles -- four, just to even it out, dark furnishing, mahogany wood and silver, gothic. There's tasseled ropes hanging from the posts, he will be using them to tie me down. We're naked and he leaves me alone on the bed while he watches from the seat (a black leather La-z-boy), I squirm, restless and horny begging him to join me, and he smiles when I look at him . . . the kind of smile that makes you go insane. Tortured, I toss my head, looking away and I hear the creak of the leather from the chair, I refused to look at him because he was so mean . . . and then I hear the springs groan as

I dreamed a very long wait by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

I dreamed a very long wait

"I Dreamed A Very Long Wait" May 20, 2002 I've closed my eyes so many times. I've closed my eyes and dreamed. I've dreamed of men and I've dreamed of women, but the dreams were of no sense to me. I closed my eyes for a second, or less -- and I dreamed of pretty things. I dreamed of a snow-white-colored velvet nest, and I dreamed of peaches. I dreamed, and I dreamed in a second -- or less, of sweet eternity. I dreamed enough time for you to satiate your needs. I dreamed the round table of the knights of old set with the placements of velvets and peach. I dreamed, too, that I was your centerpiece to partake of as you pleased.

back door to my soul by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

back door to my soul

I let you in the back door to my soul -- the darker regions dwelling there, the cringing, wanting, hiding-behind-sex part of my soul. I let you fondle my darker desires and fondled you in turn. (you kissed me) Ah, and I left that door unlocked for you. I'll kiss you freely and feel it in my bones -- and in my marrow. Lord, it'd make me moan to feel you fondle me, again. 6.19.2002

Crazy Touch by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Crazy Touch

I threw my head back and let out a moan of frustration and cursed my body. (empty response). "I'm fucking horny". I'm about to cry, just about to, the beer must be getting to me, I can't stand the feel of the air anymore, I need human contact. I need skin. (a touch. a touch with a feel I can't describe). Oh, to hell with it all, it feels so good, so I moaned. (reaching for my breasts, the touch is wandering. senseless wandering and playing with my sensations, that's all it was). What I needed was more than that, so I unbuttoned the button to my jeans. So I struggled to unzip the recalcitrant zipper on my jeans. It all felt so redu

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Deviation Spotlight

Moving Worlds by vampyrbrat, literature

Literature

Moving Worlds

vampyrbrat

About vampyrbrat

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Artist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 21 years
www.geocities.com/vampyrbrat
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: Hilo, Hawaii
Favourite genre of music: whatever works with my mood
Favourite photographer: my friends andrea & lela
Favourite style of art: photography
Operating System: reality
MP3 player of choice: the one on my dresser
Shell of choice: the nice pretty one i saw at the airport
Wallpaper of choice: not the one i'm using
Skin of choice: baby soft
Favourite cartoon character: Garfield, Stitch, & of course, Goofy
Personal Quote: The thought of a penguin on a couch makes me giggle.

Favourite Visual Artist

don't have one yet

Favourite Movies

Riding In Cars With Boys

Favourite TV Shows

don't watch tv

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

no particular favorite

Favourite Books

All, especially mine own.

Favourite Writers

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Favourite Games

word games e.g. scrabble

Favourite Gaming Platform

anywhere

Tools of the Trade

notepad, my imagniation, adobe photoshop 6, corel photo house

Other Interests

writing, reading, piercings, shoes

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vampyrbrat

Jan 6, 2008

I want to be a birdy.

0 min read

Wouldn't it be fun to fly? Wouldn't it be cool to fluff my feathers and stare intently -- all the better to see you, dear -- let me chirp at you. I want to speak to you in tongues only understood in our world. Yes. I want to be a bird.

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vampyrbrat

Aug 8, 2005

If you're in Hawaii:

0 min read

Once again, we at the UHH Women's Center, are preparing for our annual Clothesline project to be held during the Sexual Assault Awareness Week.   Each year the UHH Women's Center honors victims and survivors of violence against women during the national Domestic Violence Awareness Month.  Our programs this year include: · The Clothesline Project  (http://www.clotheslineproject.org/) A program started on Cape Cod, MA, in 1990 to address the issue of violence against women. It is a vehicle for anyone affected by violence to express their emotions by decorating a shirt. They then hang the shirt on a clothesline to be viewed by others as

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vampyrbrat

Jul 3, 2005

Again...

0 min read

Let the wind blow, stir every hair upon my body, that I might feel it and know every inch of my body . . . again. If I may in a sense know myself again, embrace myself and feel exhiliration at the thought of being completely open.  Words. To forge through my darkest of depths, to recreate the self that I so carefully distributed among the rumble and ruin of my past . . . my skeletons, my closet; in the end to rejoice in being whole . . . again. Devistation, renewal, reconnection of soul to skin.  I could fly.  Oh, how I could fly.