FW: Renaissance sculptures in clothes – PRESS.jpeg

To those called to be Saints,

I am the good vampire,

I am forever in your service

In the name of the Lord Christ

My words will drain you

Of your earthly blood

And empty your body

Of base instincts

Only to replace them

With the Blood Immortal

The Father spilled for you!

Like a Black Hole

I will sweep through your life,

Wake you up at night screaming

In fright of your own horror

And suck you into the vastly

More powerful energy field

Of Christ’s eternal Being.

Your sun will not be lost

But immortalized immaculate

In His magnetic sphere,

It will shine brighter than

The desert sun at noon

And will make night disappear.

I am the good vampire

Who with words alone

Will drain you of your flesh

To give you another garb and body,

The dress of immortality.

The price is your desire.

I want your desire,

Pure sin and horrid evil

As it is, I want it

So I may take it from you

And transform both you

And your desire

Into Christ’s crown of immortality.

But I get tired and drained

Myself sometimes in the eve

When night again threatens

To rob me of your precious self.

I grow tired loving

Your dirty transgressions

You never learn to hang

On the knob and walk away.

I get drained of my last

Drop of holy blood waiting,

Longing for you to stop

Running after your hunger

And give it to me for I

Was made to carry your burden,

Still your burning passion,

And to replenish your blood

With Christ’s!

I am the good vampire!

My presence materializes

Out of your every sin.

I know what it is to be human

To be tempted, to want,

To need incessantly

And stay empty, drained

Of life and opportunity.

Oh, I know how it is.

I have the antidote to

Your burning passions

That leave you no peace,

No earthly peace.

He gives us His peace,

He stills your thirst,

And absorbs your fire.

I know your heart.

I am the negative

Of your photograph,

The black hole of your Sun.

I am the good vampire

Sucking the wandering stars

Into the bright light of

An inverted black hole

— Being unto Christ’s denial

Of the flesh, our human flesh —

Burning brighter than the brightest sun

I draw you in with my poetry

And make you immortal

But it’s exhausting sometimes

The sucker gets sucked in

By the children of the night

I save with my breath

— my poetry —

Not a drop of blood left

For my own salvation!

I groan and suffer

With your transgressions,

I hunger with your hunger,

Have pity on me, poor poet,

My calling is the extinction

Of your wants.

I am the good vampire!

I take your life to

Give you another one, a better one,

Like Black Holes swallowing suns

To make it shine brighter

To banish the night

And give you

Immortal glory

For you are my only pride,

You my only joy, and for you

I happily lay down my life

To warm myself by the fire

Of your immortality.

Yours Truly,

Your poet in Christ

Forensic reconstruction of the face of Jesus from the Holy Shroud of Veronica, 2015

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