Hello world – this is Eden, and I am all alone… Kate is off at some ghastly family affair, and as usual I am not in the mood for spending time in the company of mortals that I cannot eat, and also, as an extra kick in the bollocks, I would have to be polite to these mortals, and sober around them. So FUCK THAT, thought I!! Fuck it right to hell! I’m staying here and getting wrecked! I have some heroin fresh from our little trip to America (New Jersey is a hole, but it’s on the way home and it really does serve up some fine dope. We had many adventures, on our travels, but there’s no time for those tales now, I’m on a crusade here!), so, I have heroin, I have whiskey, I know exactly which sock Rob keeps his cocaine in, and naturally, my rolling tin is stuffed to the gills with weed. Damn good weed too, again from our trip to the USA. Legalised weed, for fuck’s sake! In America, the land of slavery, shitty healthcare, racist shootings, Trump, and Aryan Jesus! So if it’s possible there, why in buggery-fuck’s name don’t we have this bollocks here?! It’s never happening under Thatcher v2, is it? No matter how fabulous her shoes may be, Theresa May is a fascist ANUS! However, I refuse to get into yet more politics on Kate’s blog, but I have some Banana Skunk, some Blue Tornado, and a little Grapevine Blast-Off. I feel we should start with the latter – I want to be BLASTED OFF! (or sucked off…or both…)
Anyway, Kate has assigned me a Task for the night, to keep me away from evil deeds… Tonight, I am to pretend that I am a sad, masturbating little singleton (and trust me, as an 193 year old vampire – despite what the media has told you about our sordid sex lives, there is a lot of being single and sexually frustrated in almost two centuries of un-life, no matter how spectacular, sinister and glorious your visage! We have a heightened sex drive, might I add, and it is severely awkward keeping your immortality a secret with casual sexual partners, so YES, I have had a WANK or five in my long, long life! And I still haven’t gone BLIND, no matter what they preached in my youth! Oh, never touch thyself in rude places, my boy, never eye up a woman’s lewd ankle, never draw a crude rendition of a breast and then spank thy monkey, or thou shalt go BLIND and grow hairy palms, such that everybody shalt know how SINFUL thou art! Christ…I grew up with a devoutly Christian mother – why do think I’m called Eden? Yes, it’s my real name – my elder sister was named Mary, so I had to confess to spanking my monkey in a strange little priest-box many a time. Sometimes I heard his breathing grow heavier, once I even heard the unbuttoning of trousers, followed by skin-on-skin slapping and slipping and heavy breathing as he probed me for details – How long for? Did you salivate on your cock? Was it hard? Tell me, how hard was your cock? How long did you masturbate for? Are you fully grown? Did you ejaculate? FUCK the church, but not literally, because they’d like it far too much! I probably look young enough still for them to enjoy it – I was turned at 24 and get ID’d every time I buy alcohol or Rizlas. Give them a wrinkly old man, slip him some Viagra, and let him bugger THEM for a change!).
SO, my project for tonight is to create a dating profile for myself. I am to use OkCupid as my model, and I am to answer all the questions. Kate told me it would be fun but personally I think she just wants to bugger a window into my soul, not that she doesn’t know everything about me already…admittedly it was unfair – I met her when she was mortal, and I (sorry Kate) perved on all her thoughts. So, she either wants to sodomise my soul, or she simply wants to keep me away from injecting Rob’s cocaine… Nonetheless, let us toke some Blast-Off, and get going!
Right, joint rolled, lighter sparked, away we go! BLAST OFF!
HERE LIES MY DATING PROFILE! R.I.P SELF RESPECT!
Oh Christ, my first OkCupid browse brings me to a woman who announces she “couldn’t live without God” O.o I may be out of my depth already. The computer can’t decide whether I’m a man or woman, straight or gay, so I had a little browse of an earnest chap in spectacles who thinks “this profile thing is just weird” – I wholly agree, old bean, I wholly agree. However, off we go regardless. My self summary:
HELLO, horny females! I am, by fortune or misfortune, an undead 193 year old stoned-as-fuck vampire junkie, and I am naturally QUITE the catch!
I live with…umm…three and a half other vampires, in a sprawling, antiquated mansion in the rugged hills of Clent, which currently possesses a desperately annoying drippy tap that I can’t be fucked doing anything about – heroin does tend to sap one’s motivation. My family consists of Rob, a green-mohicaned, ring-through-the-nose punk who leaves dead girls sliced up in bathtubs and slimy anal beads in my bed. God only knows why I’ve tolerated him since I was six years old. Then there’s Clara, Rob’s girlfriend (and really, WHY?! I wooed her first, but she just kicked me in the bollocks! And then she goes on to tolerate Rob?!), Clara has long, wavy red hair and the biggest tits you’ve ever seen in your life – they’re (Rob and Clara, not her tits!) coming up to a century together and I still have moments where I just zone out and stare at those enormous, white, bouncing, pert tit—umm…I don’t want another stiletto to the nuts, so we shall be MOVING ON! We also have Samuel, our maker, who has black hair and sharp, piercing blue eyes that see everything, every sin, he tried to chop off Rob’s head back in 1858, the year of the Great Stink. Appropriate that Rob, the foulest of the foul, should be turned in the foulest year in London’s recent history (YES IT IS FUCKING RECENT! I AM NOT OLD!! I DON’T REMEMBER EITHER PLAGUE SO I AM YOUNG!), being so utterly foul himself… Then there’s my half a housemate. My girlfriend has, just for tonight and this profile, been rendered invisible, and I shall say no more, but when she regains her corporate body, we will have the best sex you can possibly imagine. Vampires have many talents, *stoned winkyface* 😉
So, I suppose, to move onto myself, now that I have set the scene, I am an irksome two inches beneath six foot (Rob is six foot one, just to make me really hate him…), extremely thin, pale, with hair that is naturally black, but dyed with a blue sheen whenever I can be fucking bothered with that annoying mess of hair-dye, and it is either styled into a demented spiky hedgehog or hanging long and tangled because I simply cannot be fucked with it at all (it grows excessively, inhumanly quickly – I died as an angsty alcoholic, and haircuts were simply not a priority, nor did I care for the opinions of high society, who had long since shunned me. I STILL BEAR A GRUDGE! Or, well…here’s a lovely thought – all those people are DEAD IN THEIR GRAVES now, friends and enemies alike, as I walk on through the world, unchanged and beautiful! That is delightful 😉 ). My eyes were once brown, as a mortal, but since my death, they fade outwards into a bright, bright green, ringed in black, as all vampire eyes are.
My hobbies include heroin, weed, whiskey, having lots of noisy sex, NOT being fucked up the arse, driving far too fast in a ludicrously expensive car (or poodling along to Jerry Lee Lewis in our glorious, sparkling purple ’59 Cadillac, tail-fins and all. God, I love that car!), swimming in the pool we’ve finally convinced Samuel to install (it’s an indoor pool, naturally, because England has vile weather, and that meant we had to install a sort of conservatory onto the back of our antiquated property. I suppose it is a little blasphemous, considering that we live in a house that the National Trust has several times tried to buy and preserve. Kings have visited here many centuries before we moved in, but fuck OFF – this is our house now! It makes us feel comfortable, this ancient mansion, back in our own space and time… And yet, the pool – who doesn’t like bobbing about in a warm, clean pool, utterly naked on a blow up bed with a cocktail and a beautiful girl or two?). Samuel has an irrational hatred of conservatories. And why? It’s sensible, I think, not wholly frivolous, not all about us tearing up this almost-castle that has stood for so long – but he feels it’s a weakness, an easy attack point to our house, because glass breaks easily. As such, we have a locked, barred door between the pool and the house, the pool a glorious warm bath in its steaming glass conservatory. I suppose it’s logical, things have attacked us here, but they got in despite our extreme safety doors at the front (nobody wants to live in a prison, and windows will always be a weakness, yet a necessity… Good god those undead, rotting, yet sentient creatures were unbelievably disturbing, but this too, is a tale for another day, and a better writer than I… Kate will tell you that tale, eventually, and many others…). I am rambling, my apologies. No, I don’t apologise – I would never apologise for very good weed, the sort of weed that sends you off on surreal tangents! Goddamnit Theresa May, get THIS SHIT SORTED OUT!! LEGALISE WEED! I may be a vampire but I could easily fake…hmm…well, I do legitimately have PTSD, it’s a little unavoidable after being so long alive and the literal tortures I have endured (we won, though I nearly died, escaping it by inches. My nemesis, his head burned in my fire. Amusing that an elderly couple currently rent that old London property of ours, and have no idea that the head of an ancient, hideous vampire once burned upon their bedroom fire. I remember his dried-out brain charring first, his eyeballs flaring, sparking, burning, the fire-light shining through the empty sockets of his skull. They shall never know 😉 )
Other hobbies of mine? Well, I like riding horses, I like making music, I play guitar and sing. Then, naturally, I like eating people! When we went on tour I saw a girl in a t-shirt saying ‘EAT ME, EDEN!’ and I fulfilled her wish backstage after the gig, leaving her just about alive, but when I got back to the hotel I realised she perhaps meant her pussy, not her blood. Awkward…
What I’m doing with my life
SOD ALL! Absolutely SOD ALL! And it’s glorious 😀
I come from an aristocratic family – as such, I have done sod all for my entire, and extended, life, unless you count self destruction as a job, in which case I have been gainfully employed since I was 22. As I am barred from mentioning my presently invisible girlfriend Kate on this profile, that I must be Properly Single, I can say little more…
Wait, no, what am I doing with my life? Well, I am at perpetual war with Rob! It is my raison d’etre to make that bastard SUFFER, and the feeling is mutual! He may be my best friend, but there are only so many greased up anal beads and butt-plugs left in your bed, and frogs in your shoes that one can tolerate before retaliating with an EXTREMELY cunning plan! I invented my own religion, many decades ago, which I dub Poo Voodoo, and I use it in vengeance on a frequent basis! I pluck a dog shit from the countryside, place it in a box, tie it in loving ribbons, and bequeath it to my enemy! Nobody fucks with a DOG SHIT SENDER!!! This is only the base level of my religion – I shall require extreme dedication before I tell you more…
Oh, and naturally I have to mention eating people for a second (third? God, I have no idea, this weed is pretty respectable. Well done America, you did something right. Trump will no doubt ban it within six months, so I suppose we’d better fly back over and stock up soon…) – so, to reiterate, for a ???? time, eating people is fantastic – I highly recommend it! If you’re a vampire, anyway. Kate was strange; she enjoyed human blood even as a mortal, she is even weirder than me…but once you’re a vampire, the taste changes…everything changes; Kate, naturally, went wild for it. Oh shit, bollocks and fuck, I’m sorry, she doesn’t exist. This is an invisible fantasy until, *checks watch*, until she returns home, in around 45 minutes. Then we’re getting hardcore kinky in here! (I love you, spirit girl, say no more… It’ll be even better when your annoying family members are dead and you’re all ours, though you may not agree…)
SO, as I mentioned, we are in a band, but can never become famous, lest they notice that we end up seventy years old and I still look 24. So, we change our band’s name constantly. Neon Midnight is our true name, but generally we go by any old shite, from Shitbox Polo to the Fangbangers to The Nameless. So, we keep a low profile, but trust me, and this gives me great pleasure, we overshadow every band we support – it comes with the territory. Our fingers move faster, our voices are impossible, and we have over half a century of practice. We shit all over every band we support! 😉
ONWARDS, TO THE NEXT QUESTION!
I’m really good at
EVERYTHING! 😀 Well, except sobriety, I am terrible at sobriety and I do not regret a th— well, alright, I regret many things, but nonetheless, drugs are my love, just as much as my invisible girlfriend is my love… But despite my junkie alcoholic fuck uppery, I will give you the best sex of your life, and then feed your post-orgasmic hunger with… Well, shit, I can’t really cook, I’m afraid; grew up with servants and now I live on blood, so I’ll fuck you half to death and then…to be frank, when we’ve both cummed about a gallon of bliss, I’ll leave you with a Pot Noodle and a few soggy condoms, as a memoir of our glorious, Earth-shattering intercourse. Is that passable?
I already mentioned our music, but to reiterate, for ROB THE BASTARD, I am the lead singer AND the lead guitarist, and you try doing that shit all at once at our level of complexity! Like I said – half a century of practice – I’ll surpass anything you’ve ever seen in your life, and I am not tooting my own fart-trombone! I’ll play for you while you gobble up that post-sex Pot Noodle. You’ll come in your pants, regardless of slurping up noodles, then I’ll order you a taxi to piss off in, and my invisible girlfriend shall take me back to bed for even better sex than any mortal could ever provide!
NEXT SODDING QUESTION!
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Oh, for fuck’s sake, could this be ANY more Americanised? LEARN TO SPELL, YOU HEATHEN DUMP-TRUCK, and they’re “films and TV”, not movies and shows! NOW YOU KNOW!
There is far too much to list here – where do I even begin?!
Alright – our whole family undeniably love everything about us, our species, vampires – soap operas for the undead are always appreciated in this household, even if we spend the entire thing hollering at the television “BULLSHIT! This is BULLSHIT!”, or in the case of the Vampire Diaries, “JUST GET ON WITH IT! FUCK HIM RIGHT NOW! CHAIN HIM TO THE BED AND FUCK HIM! AND THEN EAT HIM! KATHERINE WAS FAR MORE FUN than Elena anyway!”. Besides the vampires, Breaking Bad is fantastic, and Kate shares my obsession. We spent hours debating theories, and now we watch it all the way through at least once a year. Oops, shit, sorry, she’s invisible right now, isn’t she? Ok, I watch it alone then, constantly, like a sad old bastard, masturbating over Jessie’s goth girlfriend…
Music…dear God… Well, let’s keep this brief, if at all possible – I latched onto goth in the early 80’s and never quite moved on. I appreciate some punk, courtesy of Rob, particularly female-led, so long as they sound like a snarling Brody Dalle (or like my invisible girlfriend, who has sandpaper for a singing voice, an effortless, soaring, rasping scream, she kicks some serious shit and has had endless record deal offers – if Samuel stopped slapping us down, I’d let her conquer the world with her violent, beautiful, shredded and impossible voice….), and not like Pussy Riot, who just yell annoyingly and angrily into microphones like a pissed off Catholic girlfriend who just discovered I’m a vampire. Been there, done that, my mortal friends – it wasn’t fun, and it isn’t music – I vastly appreciate the sentiment and political power of Pussy Riot and their crusade, but dear god, ladies, find yourself a lead screamer who can actually scream – when you collaborated with The Jack Wood it was fabulous. That’s what you need, should you desire to conquer hearts and minds, as you utterly deserve to. Find someone like Jack Wood’s singer, permanently – sexy, powerful, a screamer, a music-feeler, swaying and kicking and letting loose….
I hate the direction goth is taking, and can rarely be fucked with the festivals these days unless Samuel drags me there because he wants to meet one of his ‘friends’, as he calls them (Samuel is obsessed with Youtube. We utterly despair. Egotistical twats talking to themselves about complete bollocks in a lonesome bedroom (I talk to myself all the time, but at least I don’t sell my ramblings to the internet! “Where the FUCK is my other sock?! Who the FUCK is stealing my socks?! I am going to FUCK ROB WITH A TRAFFIC CONE!!”), or “collaborating” with some other egotistical paranoid twat in a sad attempt to amp their, umm, “fame”. Christ on a Hobnob… Samuel has plenty of real friends, INCLUDING ME, so why he insists upon hauling me out to these German festivals that stink of sausages, hairspray, sweaty men and clove cigarettes, when half the bands there now sound like static and machine guns, overlaid with the vocals of someone angrily vomiting with a sore throat – why Samuel goes just so he can meet some weird little “internet famous” ponce glued to their “selfie stick”, is utterly beyond me! Samuel is around 800 years old, attractive, living with Rob, Clara, and myself, his best friend is a nearly two thousand year old vampire currently flitting between Italy and France with his immortal boy lover; why does he need to meet these random mortals obsessed with cameras beaming back their own faces, and talking to strangers, instead of his own real life friends? I am quite content here, with my immortal family. They are all I need… Samuel is ancient. He’s going bonkers with this Youtube fad…) – so, old school goth only. Unless I’m on speed, ecstasy or coke, in which case, my principles go RIGHT out of the window, and I will dance for hours to this present day Industrial crap, until I vomit. Quite literally. And usually I vomit over some ponce in “cyberlox” and neon tights. Dear god, where has the goth scene gone? Even the ‘trad goths’ are pretentious as all sodding hell, in places, despite the fact that I literally went to the Batcave, endless times, I drink blood, I am UNDEAD and beautiful, my hair is BETTER THAN THEIRS, I’ve been reading gothic literature since its inception, etc etc. NO! Of course not! I look barely 24, so I’m a poser, naturally, despite the fact that these bouncing neon children would sneer their pierced noses at the music that really matters!
…because it does. I don’t care how much black you wear and how much metal you have in your face, if you don’t respect the actual music, you aren’t a goth. You’re a something else. Which is fine (if I’m being civil. If I’m being realistic, these bouncing neon children who think Suicide Commando and X-RX are goth, they…umm…well. I just fucking eat them, for crimes against humanity and culture! I hide their corpses from Samuel, naturally, but they disappear in the night 😉 ), be whoever you want to be, I’ll eat you regardless, but do your sodding research before you turn into a elitist bullshitting arsehole! And neon dread-falls should be punished with a hundred lashes regardless; they’re HIDEOUS!
On the other hand, I give few shits, my family are around me, but we seem to irk the goths of most areas we land in, especially America; Rob looks too punk, Clara overshadows them ALL and the girls get bitchy (Clara just laughs, hoists her enormous tits even higher, and dances like the trained stripper, poledancer and gymnast she is. Take on a pale, stunning, well-endowed redhead with a muscular punk at her side and you will always lose…), Kate is made up with more artistic skill than these bland copycat motherfuckers could possibly dream of, and me, well…I can hear their thoughts, so I’m not being vain when I say they generally want me. They’re not getting me though! We’ve had pretentious American toss-pots stride up and quiz us on songs by The Cure. We give them one strike before we either take them into the bathrooms and drain them to death (when Samuel’s not looking, naturally – egotism isn’t a sin worthy of death, to him. But IT IS TO ME!), or we simply mindfuck them to go home, toss out all their black clothes, bleach their hair blonde, and wear nothing but pink for the next decade. I enjoy these confrontations 😉 )
…so, this question intrigues me – at these festivals, do I vomit from the drugs and booze, or my allergy to the terrible, grinding industrial cybergoth music? I believe it is the latter. Drugs and booze are my friends 🙂 Returning to the subject of my favourite music, I also listen to a lot of Elvis, Johnny Cash, Billy Holiday, and whatever modern bollocks my invisible girlfriend whacks on while we fuck. I, umm, am embarrassed to confess that I’m learning to enjoy Oasis and some truly weird electronica. Digital Daggers, however, are appropriately sinister. I rather like them…
Food? Well, that’s simple – YOU!! You are my food, particularly if you’re a Type O. Red wine and whiskey also appreciated. Venison steak occasionally, and I confess that I have an awful love for macaroni cheese… Ohhhh, I could really go for some of that right now, after our time in the USA, but as I said, I am all alone, and I cannot fucking cook! Even if I could, it would never taste the way it tastes in America. I know not what alchemy those chefs work, but Jesus H Christ I could eat it forever, I’m almost literally dribbling at the thought of it! I would be one big fat spherical bastard if I was a modern-day mortal living in the USA! (which many of them are. Either that or they’re tanned like a hotdog, obsessed with stupid exercise regimes, Paleo diets, and boring as all hell…)
Can I pay you to come over and make me proper American macaroni cheese, anybody? Fucking damnit, I hate the munchies, trust American weed to make me want to eat everything in sight!
MOVING ON BEFORE I GO OUT AND DEVOUR A FAT MAN!
The six things I could never do without
My presently invisible girlfriend, my immortal family, BLOOD, drugs, a guitar and a mic (that’s one, fuck off), and finally, DOGS! :3
I spend a lot of time thinking about
How shit 50 Shades of Grey is. Kate insisted we watch it on DVD, for science, and we laughed our pert little arses off. “I don’t make love, Anastasia, I FUCK!!!!!!” I’ve started using that line in the bedroom whenever I want to make her laugh, and the vibrations of her laughter do lovely things while I’m…inside her… Is this too pornographic? Probably. Will Kate edit it out? I doubt it. She’s as filthy as me 😉
I also think about the fact that now my Invisible Girlfriend is an immortal, she could do so much better than me. She could find somebody functional, perfect, become a maker, or mindfuck anyone into bed – she could have anyone she liked. And me, I’m a fucked up useless junkie. How long before she gets bored? I think about that, far too much…
I also think about dogs. I think about dogs being eaten in Eastern countries. Sadly many of the vampires I know are so immoral they wouldn’t ‘t give a fuck, but I frequently contemplate rounding up a vampire army and swarming down upon that sodding dog eating festival and ripping out throats all over the damn place. Then I’d let out the caged dogs, and encourage them to eat the corpses… It would, unfortunately, cause something of a spectacle, however, because every bastard has a camera-phone these days. Samuel has made it verboten, and he is 800 years old – I cannot fight him. He would put me in The Dreaded Cage… So, all the dogs die, and I am powerless, each year. I think about that a lot. I do good, in some ways (I’ve done horrific evil too, but don’tthinkdon’tthinkaboutthat!!!!), yet NOW with these sodding CAMERAS everywhere, my slaughter-to-save good deeds are seriously difficult to achieve!!
I think, often, about the aforementioned Horrific Evil that I have done. Clara thinks I have PTSD. I hear children’s laughter and…things happen, inside my brain. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t intend it! It just…went wrong…but those images are burned like the boiling explosions of the sun, into my scarred mind forever…
Ugh… This is horrifically depressing. I feel like I’m seeing a psychiatrist – it’s clearly time for more smack.
SHOOTING UP, THEN MOVING ON BEFORE I STAKE MYSELF!
On a typical Friday night I am
Lounging, naked, in bed, with my invisible girlfriend (Kate, this is DIFFICULT! You’re in every element of my life now!), having thoroughly bonked all over the room, and now we’re smoking some good strong weed, maybe shooting a little smack, watching True Blood, as I run my finger up and down her xylophone ribs, or tease her pierced nipples into peaks, or…well…go somewhere a little ruder before round two. Then perhaps we fill my vast bathtub, and float about sharing a bottle of blood-wine and a joint.
Other times, my whole family go out clubbing – a goth and rock club, none of that chavvy Broad Street nonsense, none of that techno psy-trance tedium, and we get drunk as rolling skunks, drop a few ecstasy pills or snort some coke (never both, you human muppets! I know it sounds “cool” to take as many drugs as you can, but coke and ecstasy cancel each other out – coke brings you down from ecstasy, and the latter is far superior! So cut the crap! Do your sodding research, or take the word of a wise and drug-addled immortal! Coke OR ecstasy, or ecstasy AND speed! And fuck off with your mephedrone, you tasteless little turnip! I ATE the last dealer who tried to flog me that utter shite! I have vampire senses, I hear your thoughts, I smell the drugs, and you will not fuck ME over!), and then we dance like mad bastards all night. My invisible girlfriend is beautiful, and elegant, and I’m not allowed to talk about her here 😦
You should message me if
You want a threesome 😉 My invisible girlfriend is hereby returned to flesh, bone, brains and brilliance – she’s skinny and graceful, pale white with black and pink hair, eyes as green as a toxic frog, cheekbones that could slice you open, and her…umm…oh gosh, if I continue onto the more lewd aspects of her body she’ll only cut them out, so I’ll say no more. But I love her utterly, and you, Human, will always come second. But we could take a third, occasionally, in our four-poster bed, provided you pay in blood…
You could also message me if you’re an immortal and want to come to a seriously fucked up, blood-drenched party – the more the merrier! It’s my birthday in a few months, and our…semi-friend Vlad (yes, really. That’s his name. He is the epitome of vampiric cliché, but the sadism of his parties has won me over) – he will throw a grandiose, insane party at any excuse. We once recreated the scene from Blade, slaying seven victims atop a punctured metal walkway, and showering in their blood. Fuck that was good – I’m glad he warned us to wear wipe-clean clothing! We’ve had blood waterslides, victim’s heads bouncing down the slide before we slither joyously around in their gushing arterial blood, and…Jesus, there’s been far, far more. I mean, he nearly chopped off my head once, during a disagreement over a victim, but we’ve made it up since. So, lonesome immortals, drop me a message – you will never become one of our family, we are beyond complete, but we can show you a good time 😉
END OF QUESTIONS!
Well, I feel that Kate succeeded – I have indeed been kept busy. And I can hear her car coming now – she’s about three miles or so away but the power of that engine is rather distinctive. I hope her father didn’t have another attempt at shoe-horning us apart because I’m such a terrible junkie fuck up… (No, he doesn’t know that we’re vampires. Kate is reluctant on the subject of mindfucking her family, but that was essential. Do not notice her changed eyes, cold hands, pale skin. She mindfucked him once more to hide my obvious intoxication at a family wedding (why do you think I avoid them so determinedly?!) , but in general, I am raw and naked and useless in his presence, and I must not mindfuck him…)
My girlfriend is returned to flesh, and I am no longer a sad lonesome masturbator on a terrifying dating site full of Jesus obsessives! TIME TO CELEBRATE!
I reckon I can do a shot of good New Jersey dope before Kate gets here, if I go full vamp-speed.
OVER AND OUT, it’s time to get high, then fuck like sleepy animals!!
I wanna fuck my vein like an animal!
I want a syringe on the inside!
I wanna fuck it like a JUNKIE!
My whole existence is fucked
You get me closer to…extremely fucked?
Well, alright, weed rarely produces fantastic poetry. Nonetheless.
I WANNA FUCK MY VEINS
UNTIL I CAME
HEROIN, IS NOT A SIN
GONNA GET HIGH
HAVE SOME SEX!
I’M NOT A HERO IN SPANDEX!
(‘CAUSE NOT MUCH RHYMES WITH THAT)
FUCK A FUCKING CAT!
I’M NOT INTO SCAT!
WEAR AN UGLY HAT!
FINGERS UP TO SOBRIETY!
FINGERS UP TO TRUMP SOCIETYYYYY!
…and that is all I have to say
I like to do it all my way
Heroin sex is underrated
Ecstasy sex is a pile of shite…
But not if you’re FUCKING ME! 😀
Right, I’ve really got to get going if I’m going to cook up a big golden brown shot before Kate roars up and tells me off. Mmmm, opiate sex. So long, singletons, may your quest for bonking go smoothly! (as may your future blowjobs… (that is one vampiric problem, fangs – you either learn to appreciate sadistic and scratchy blowjobs, or you buy a lot of dental dams…) )