Vampire, Inesis

Inesis Pyre
Creature of Desire
Prince of the Night
And Phantom of Fire

A vision is he
Angel of divine light
Glimmering like the sun
Harsh, diamond bright

Long golden tresses
Halo alabaster skin
And bright eyes of amber
Tempt the wicked to sin

For immortality he wears well
A sultry glow, an ember’s heat
There’s hunger in those hooded eyes
A white wolf craving fresh meat

“Blood, blood,” he says, “The finest wine
Thick and warm, beneath tender flesh.
It flows in rivulets, rivers of red
Best consumed when taken fresh”

“Fire, fire,” he further proclaims,
“Hot and cruel it consumes the hearth.
Dancing in flames, wild, unashamed,
Full of reckless and ravishing mirth”

This is no man, for god-like is he
A seductive seraph contained in that form
His pointed fangs, white as fresh cream
Glint like lightning in a summer storm

He taints, he corrupts
Never to relinquish his hold
He is a trickster, a tempter
More than seven centuries old

A criminal overlord and mastermind
An aristocrat of devilry untamed
He is sole king of this cruel city
Even the shadows know his name

A/N: Written for a potential novel I’m working on

© 2019 Obliquity of the Ecliptic



I want blood and sex and food and flesh
Tears and sweat
Hands around my neck
My fist through a door
As I fracture my sense
I crave pleasure
I want pain
Razor blades on skin
Needles through my brain
I want black and white
Not a single shade of grey
Red in the ledger
And blood on the page
I lust for violence
I need war
I don’t want to hurt anyone
Only to destroy
I’m frenzied, unhinged
Dragging nails over skin
But it’s all wearing thin
And my throat’s going hoarse
As this mania runs its course
With showers running hot
And tiles ice cold
With biting silver
And bleeding gold
And charcoal black
And hazy blue
And stinging pink
That won’t fade soon
I’ve got scars turning purple
And knuckles going white
Bruised shins, peeling elbows,
An aching back at night
My palms are burning
My cheek is bleeding
My insides are pulsing
I don’t think I’m healing
My love bites are fading
I now feel wasted
Used up, and empty
Everything’s tasteless
The greed’s had its time
And I’ve had mine
The chocolate cake devoured
I drank all the wine
I found my band-aids
And gauze and cream
I’ll be okay
At least for another week.

© 2019 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

February is a Feather

February is a feather
A soft bristled quill
Half-transparent and ephemeral
February is quick
It swiftly slips through Saturdays
Tightly wound and wired
Passing by without words
Only many hours spent at work
February is winsome
Wily, full of love
That fourteenth day marked by warm emotions
Colored vermilion and rose
With lace and white light pure as God
And yet there is the most active solitude in February
An isolation amidst the activity
Singular moments of either resplendent affection
Or eminent exhaustion, loneliness
A contradictory conundrum that causes the question
Of why we seek solace in others
To appear like a cold spell
As chilling as Death
February cleaves, it cuts
Lightly, sweetly
Revealing cracks and callouses
Those flaws that stayed hidden in January
When spirits were high
And illusions pure
But February is lovely
It embraces the schedule
Of full days and worn-out evenings
Without efficacy but full of peace
It has a certain thrall
But is often ignored
For a focus on superfluous enormity
Due to the ease of self pity
February is fetching
It has the inflection of an angel
An ethereal glow
And a muddy aura
February is a challenge
A task on an endlessly growing list
Inevitable as emptiness
And yet on soft wings
It passes
And life goes on

© 2019 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

Early October, 5:34pm

The sun was a silver smear in the cloudy sky
It hurt my eyes and made me wonder
Riding along the winding path
How something so warm
And so bright
could be
so cold
When thinly veiled
Unable to even touch
The wind-whipped treetops
Or the bat house on the lake side
But then I knew it had to be autumn.

© 2018 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

Sweet Nothing

I was a beauty queen in a bed sheet
Messy hair a work of art
And a girl with savage fits
“Don’t know how, but you’re killing me, kid”

I remember the amber glow of streetlights
And long walks down darkened streets
I was beauty dancing in a hurricane
In neon flashes of blue and green

Counting freckles on bare shoulders
As he pulled me closer
Blue-eyed, blue-collared
A boy with peasant blood
Who adored a queen at heart

All good things come to an end
And I feel relief
Because as much as we loved
It was all sweet nothing

© 2018 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

A Poem for the Moon

She is what I wish to be
Glowing, radiant
And perfect.
When I am hot, she is cool
When I am gone, she is there.
A sparkling eye, a shining face
Veiling a layer of subtle grace
What is it like, to be adored?
It seems like a burden
She is too humble to bear.
It is a duty performed
With modest flair.
There she is
And here I stay
Small and far away
My mind full of starlight
My thoughts in the clouds.
One look puts me in a haze
Lasting for days
And it warbles all the sounds.
I’ve always been blue,
But I daydream in red when I see you.

© 2018 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

Summer is a Sunshower


Summer is a sunshower
The light catching on the rain
The pool speckled with ripples
Eyelids beginning to droop
As heavy as water

Summer is green tea
A half-glass of lemon and mint
Moist like the morning air
Fluid as time and thought

Summer is a tropical depression
With large galls and rumbling clouds
When the parents are too tired to fight
And the kids too tired to listen

Summer is a bird call
Long and low and lazy
Stuck between pleasant and tiresome
Echoing the subconscious

Summer is aloe
To rub on burnt skin, freckled welts,
And scars that will never heal
Only fade

Summer is discovery
A never-ending journey
Down dimly-lit streets at midnight
With mosquitoes as companions
And reality a bit altered

Summer is peppered chicken
Sizzling and savory
Eaten warm for dinner
And cold for breakfast
Mixed with fresh greens
And scrambled eggs
And repetition

Summer is freedom
Sickly-sweet and desired
Terrifying and unwanted
An enigma
A paradox
A contradiction

Summer is a sundae
Thick and gooey and whole
Whipped cream and chocolate sauce
Warm from the stove
Melting cold cream
Tasting like salted caramel

Sweet as an evening free from worry

Summer is a Sunday
Forever and always
The conclusion of one age
The prelude to another
Church mornings and busy evenings
Peanut butter and honey
Pop songs on the radio
Card games never finished
A breath of relief
Which becomes a perpetual sigh

Summer is over
And yet it never ends.

© 2017 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

The Tale of Two


At first, they were orphans.
The first a brunette, the second a blonde.
Both insignificant and small
With eyes wide and fingers frail
Trembling in terror.
Side by side, hand in hand.
That is how they were found,
And that is how they were sent,
Sent to the sad little home
For sad little girls just like them.

Insignificant they were,
But helpless they were not.

The Brunette was the dreamer,
Consequently quieter in nature.
The Blonde was small,
With a contagious exuberance
That always lifted the dreamer’s spirits.
“Daisy,” she was called,
Her true name long forgotten,
But daisy was better fitting
For a girl born of the sun.

The home was dismal
Harsh as the world outside.
Knowing each would never survive
Without the other at her side
The two became inseparable,
Day and especially night,
Until the dreaded time came
For them to be separated
By the cruel hands of Fate
Or rather the crueler hands of man.


They were almost grown
Adolescence upon them like a curse.
The dreamer had grown tall,
Shy and awkward in nature,
Her dark hair wearily managed
Her emotions locked behind tied tongue.
Daisy was still so fierce
As bright as her namesake,
A nymph who scorned the advancements
Of gods and men
A harpy of honey and milk.

They were pulled apart,
Screaming and crying
Like the children they once were,
And Daisy was taken away.
No one would tell the dreamer where,
No matter how she begged.
The two were young women now,
They must learn what young women learned.
The dreamer’s dreams were stifled,
And Daisy,
Soft, sweet Daisy
Wilted without her other half.

The two could dress the part
Speak the lines
Please the probing eyes of men
With their waltzes and curtsies
Clothed in ruffles and lace
And powdered in white,
Their lips painted
But their smiles faint.


The dreamer read books
The works of Sappho and Stoker and Mérimée
To feed her hungry heart in trying times,
But it was not the same.
No less entrapped, Daisy would giggle
In the company of many,
Invoking chuckles for her charm,
But it was all pretend.
For their eyes were dull
Their faces weak when compared
To the bittersweet memory
Of her dreamer’s crooked smile.

But one night,
When the moon was full in her splendor
And the shadows whispered promisingly,
she did not have to pretend,
Because in that dimly-lit room of red
Was the dreamer,
Treading timidly in the wake of the men
Whose words were as dusty as death.
When the dreamer saw Daisy,
She ran forward at once
New life had brightened her eyes
And lightened her steps.

Daisy threw her arms around the dreamer’s neck,
Much to the chagrin of her suitors,
And laughed like a fiend.

Their happiness was full.
They would escape that night,
Free from their troubles
Because they had each other.
Off they ran,
Barefoot and brave
Serene and whole.
Everything was perfect
Until the dreamer awoke.

© 2017 Obliquity of the Ecliptic

The Mermaid and the Moon


I created it for my digital design class with Photoshop, inspired by Ted Hughes’s poem “Song,” particularly the first stanza:

O lady, when the tipped cup of the moon blessed you
You became soft fire with a  cloud’s grace;
The difficult stars swam for eyes in your face;
You stood, and your shadow was my place:
You turned, your shadow turned to ice
O my lady

© 2017 Obliquity of the Ecliptic