more monsters

i look at you

and i realize how dracula must have felt

you figure that after a couple of hundred years

the novelty of immortality and near-invulnerability wears off. . .
and what are you left with?

a few blood-drained carcasses strewn about the place like empty 12 oz. cans of Schlitz Light
minus the recyclable value

all your past victories are
little more than a shoebox full of grainy polaroids
or
just after-images burnt into your eyelids

it
all
becomes
so
routine
with you gone

i look at you
and feel a kinship with ol' Larry Talbot

the morning will find me
with tattered clothes
and tattered memories
and maybe even a few tattered notions
of redemption via silver bullet

only problem being. . .
this slug's heart-shaped
and has your name carved in it

i look at you
and emotion is

a million Frankenstein's Monsters
running amok with lumbering heavy feet,
arms outstretched,
and a poker face
that only blinks or wilts with fire

the fire of your eternally non-plussed gaze.