Everyone who knows me knows that it was inevitable for me to give them a vampire poem. Vampires have been fascinating to me since I was a small child, intoxicating almost, and as I've grown up, nothing's changed.
However, this poem was actually written to show the DOWNSIDE of the undead. Vampires are so romanticized and fabricated these days -- this poem describes the TRUE life. The unfluffed version. Or at least it attempts to do so.
Fanged debauch,
cunning trickster,
whom draws the very breath
of birth
-- life --
from its helpless victim
after victim.
That
which does not see the difference
between the rich and the poor,
the good and evil;
at a glance, its lazy glare
only registering
warm-blooded or cold.
A thirst which cannot be quenched,
throat screaming
with delicious agony;
hands that cannot be warmed
by campfire light, or steam;
two eyes drowning in red,
blazing eternal anger,
filled to the chilled skin
with the blood and breath of its prey.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
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