You’re not so much a vampire like you used to be

You’re not so much a vampire these days, he said.
You don’t seem to be
As vampiric as previous.
No, I replied, glad you noticed that.

I used to suck life out of the obvious
Delirious in the midsummer heat.
Now I just suck
Um-Bongo from cardboard cartons
While watching Pointless.

My life is pointless.

All the good things happen during daytime hours.
It’s why I didn’t see Wimbledon again this year.
Another August without a decent summer holiday
No frolicking on the beach for me
No diving boats swim pool back flips
No crazy afternoons playing frisbee in the park.
Now I spend all of my time indoors
Writing an incredibly long poem about an ice cream.

It’s my magnum opus.

The exquisite tenderness and violence
Of sinking ones fangs into the neck
Of a maiden
Cannot match
A custard cream biscuit and a nice cup of tea.
And then you don’t have to hang around
For all eternity with them.
Eternity is such a waste of time.

How do I look?
I haven’t had a good shave in years.
Every morning in the mirror,
A Bic disposable razor hanging in mid air.
Even the undead get stubble.

I’m not as vampiric as I once was.
I’ve given up on all those late night japes.
No sir.
Not for me.
Fangs for that.
I’m a suburban vampire with agoraphobic tendencies
Cos it’s so much safer to stay at home.
I’m not going to get caught out again
Like I did during the eclipse.

I’m a stay at home vampire
A have a moan vampire
A cold dark feel alone order dinner on the phone vampire
I’ve ploughed through every single
Last of the Summer Wine box set
And now I’ve started on Only Fools and Horses.
My kettle is free of build up,
I’m Vlad the Descaler.
I’ve spent all my time making
Little suits for non existent tiny mythical creatures,
I’m Vlad the Imp Tailor
I no longer exercise at the leisure centre
I’ve fled the gym trainer
The world I see is the world without me
And that is why I’m really not
As vampiric as I used to be.

I’m glad you noticed.
Nobody else was going to say anything,
You were the first to
Stick your neck out.

Author: Robert Garnham

Performance and spoken word artist.

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