Lenses

The Whisper

One rarely understands

how a vampire must feel.

Studies and myths—

crafted by observers—

fail to reveal.

Commentary reflects not truth,

but perspective.

Are they entranced…

or simply dismissive?

Not what they are—

but what we choose to see.

The Council

Vampires kill—

unethical,

dangerous creatures.

A pyramid of needs,

inverted.

A cursed kind of hunger.

Restlessness retreats

only when they all are burned.

All parties agreed—

the invincible meeting

is adjourned.

The Member

Starved bodies return

after long, ravenous gatherings.

A glance toward the maid—

silently loud.

Each flavor needs

its marinating.

Not eggs,

but ash.

Not heat,

but fire.

The maid collects

what she will cook.

From human to vampire—

a shift without ceremony.

No second look.

The Vampire

Insights since 1431 remain—

not to relive,

only to observe.

The human-watching spot—

breeze-filled,

thoughtfully reserved.

Then—

a fine, accidental cut

in the kitchen.

A perfect knife.

From nowhere,

he came—

The Count.

She wasn’t the reason.

Just what kept him alive.

The Animals

A silhouette consumed by flame,

watched—

through torn walls,

from safely hidden holes.

The picture was unclear,

but curiosity

made us climb—

as if, for a moment,

we could be heroes.

They killed the wrong one,

yet still cried righteous!

Yelling,

as if they chanted sacred vows.

Then—

silence.

Return from distraction—

the next meal is near.

And we

must not

be found.