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I felt this clamping razor edged like fangs
burrowing deep into my neck like a soft
Peach and a sharp - edged knife stabbing

sinking deep. it was crimson red and
thick like syrup weeping

Slowly gliding down my chest. An aroma of
rotten decomposing flakey flesh and rotting
Death breath. The tomb still night was raven

Black. Ice degrees death breeze chills running
all the way up to my Head. I only went
outside the cavern pub to smoke a cigarette.

Now shouldering muscling to fight this thing
Behind my back.I'm shaking and then intense
Fury ! finally it let go what the fuck was that ?
Suddenly I felt Dizzy like iam going to collapse

like a feather and slow I could see myself
swaying up and down and losing ground
Just no one around I'm losing consciousness

I'm feeling nauseated throwing up on the
pavement no witnesses or ambulances

No witnesses ? I hear a fluttering of a flittermouse
and that was that. It just faded -out never to be
Traced or tracked

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content
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The concept of this poem. I am a big fan of vampires and the macabre. The details and description are very good, however, I think the poem could use a bit of restructuring to make it easier for the reader. Utilizing stanzas would certainly help and make for a smoother read. One little typo in the last line, "know" should be "no." Good job.


Thank you know and no I always get confused with haha but thanks means alot

author comment

I will be adding more it's not quiet finished but I'm enjoying playing around with it !

author comment

To seeing the finished product. You have quite the talent and I am curious to see how it develops.


Edited polished a bit more

author comment

"what the fuck" is very poetic indeed. What a pity Shakespeare, Keats, Byron, Shelley and all the others never saw fit to use that one.

I appreciate the comment !

author comment
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