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James David Attwood

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Phoenix, AZ, US

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The Beast

by

James David Attwood

The Beast within cries out tonight,
with savage fury and rage.
I have locked it deep within my soul,
a monster in a cage.
The screams are like daggers,
piercing my mind.
The howls,
they squeeze my heart.
The taste of food,
lies foul in my mouth.
Even the cherries are tart.
The sunlight brings solace,
or as much as can be.
But not enough still,
for even a blind man can see,
That as the night comes upon me,
I begin losing all reason.
The press of the crowds,
marks Open Season.
The mass of humanity,
an unyielding flood,
Brings to my senses,
the nectar of blood.
The insanity it brings,
no less than sublime.
For the Beast within,
it's feeding time.
To give in to the Beast,
to drink deep from the flow,
Brings a peace and tranquility,
only my kind can know.
The arousal brought on,
by the hunt for the drink,
Can take a man's sanity,
right to the brink.
But the ecstasy brought on,
by this insatiable passion,
Is akin to heaven,
after a fashion.
But instead I lock the Beast away,
and try to live by the light of day.
But as I live by the sun,
I live in Hell.
For only in darkness,
can I happily dwell.
So to Hell with the daylight,
I'll not be burned by it's fire.
As I live and I breathe,
I have but one desire.
To renounce this masque of normalcy,
despite the world and its ire.
I shall embrace the Beast and be complete,
for I am VAMPIRE.