MacabreVampire

The fiddle is not an instrument I can play, But I still bet the Devil my soul today. He appeared before me as I sat at my desk, A demon with red eyes and a face so grotesque. He wanted to see who could weave the darker tale, And said he'd take my soul to Hell if I should fail. I took his bet with an odd sort of glee, For there is no one that has a muse darker than me. Then that old Devil pulled a pen from behind his ear, Leered at me, laughing as though I had something to fear. His ink ran red as blood as he wrote, And I couldn't hide the chuckle that rose up in my throat. He told of the things he knew best, the depths of his Hell, Where t

What are these things that gather 'round my bed? Creatures of darkest shadow and shapeless form, Which come to me on the eve of this wicked storm. Be they messengers from the realm of the dead, These beings that fill my heart with such dread? They crowd my chamber in a haphazard swarm, Their presence disturbing yet somehow quite warm. "Are you all truly here, or are you only in my head?" Said they, "We are souls from a world beyond, We inspire, we heal, and we mean you no harm." As I lay dying there they filled my soul with song, And of those shadows I grew quite fond, For I found they had a certain otherworldly charm. It is to I alone that

She is a doll with a face of porcelain white Has a lovely bowtie smile so contrite She hates the monster hiding beneath the bed And prefers the one in the closet instead She is a queen with thorns in her crown Cobwebs hide in the folds of her gown She wears plastic rings on each of her fingers Past beauty and grandeur only faintly lingers She is a writer without ink or quill Her gift is such a bittersweet pill She writes in blood upon her own skin In effort to calm the demons within She is a corpse without a crypt Lived a life with such a tragic script She has no headstone to mark her grave Thought herself a queen but died a knave

A white knight goes riding in my cold tea Reflected in my round amber mirror He seeks out a dragon to slay, just for me. Such a darling, my hero, what a damn pity! How will he ever conquer that mighty beast While it is so massive and he is so very bitty? Perhaps I should have told him before he began About the awful nature of his quest And how the dragon has eaten man after man. Oh well. Look, how bravely he does draw his sword! A flash of cold metal, a show of hard steel, Just a few moments in and I’m already bored. Be he brave and have as much courage as he may, I can certainly and without a doubt say That he’ll be dead and

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji Author: MacabreVampire (silenttaiyoukai) Word Count: ~1,000 Characters: Undertaker/Mey-Rin Summary: Mey-Rin and the Undertaker revisit the mansion. A/N: This is "The Maid and the Mortician" chapter 6. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They let themselves in through the servant’s entrance in the rear of the mansion, which was rusted on its hinges and hung crookedly ajar like a monster’s gaping maw. In such a relatively short time, it had been transformed into something akin to an old-world Gothic castle from the penny dreadfuls Mey-Rin loved reading so. It was grotesque and beautiful, surreal and so very dreary. Nature had be

So I was walking down the street yesterday my street the one where the Chinese and Korean places meet and I had my eyes in the sky but my head down and nose to the ground cause I was flying high and didn’t want to take off again not like the pigeons hopping round my moving feet and not like Jimmy who had gone surfing in the clouds and never come back down at least not like his old self I was moving in time stepping on down the line when this skirt comes up to me this pair of four inchers thin as a stick and red lips that say hey kid, you okay? and I’m stuck real good gummed to the sticky sickly sidewalk the concrete highw