I ate all those flies for this? (Or, Vampire Erotica Snuff Poem Number One) - Warren LaRocque

John Waters was right:

live for filth.

I see the grit between your teeth even as

you gasp for air. Tell me,

do little creatures scream for mercy as you

rip them apart? You did.

You’re the littlest filthy creature of them all,

cowering and squirming while you

hump my boot.

Your teeth gnash. Your eyes bug out.

You look awfully silly, little dear,

with all the life squeezed out of you.

The blood is the life, Mister Renfield.

Blood is filth.

I am the filthiest person undead.

You seem to be wondering if the filth killed you!

Live a life of sin, face death with a hard-on.

Sorry--face death head on. Unsatisfied.

But I’ll be kind, and let you ruin my pants as the last glimmer of light leaves your eyes.

Don’t worry, little creature--

I always tip my queens.

---

Warren LaRocque is a 21 year old poet, storyteller, and general layabout. Boasting a perverse fascination with the grotesque and disturbing, his work focuses on, well, the grotesque and disturbing. When he’s not writing poetry, he’s studying at the University at Albany or watching a vampire movie. All he does is think about vampires. We’re worried about him.