Blood Worth Bottling

Welp, the weird lines were not planned but I guess they go with the static??? Ugh getting formatting onto YWS is so difficult

oh man, i love this. the repetition of "stuck young forever" really hit, and in general i'm obsessed with the metaphor of vampirism / monsters = queerness. by any chance have you watched Interview with the Vampire? bc this is hitting that same spot of hoping-despite-it-all feral queer resistance that i love. thanks for sharing <3

Thank you so much, @Sonder! I actually have not watched Interview with the Vampire, though I've heard it's great and it's been on my list for a while!! I'm going to be referencing a lot of common vampires in media/books I grew up on or movies/tv shows though, so I'll keep it in mind! Thanks for reading :]

I wanted to really play with the visual involvement of the poem today, so I had a little fun with it! If you turn it sideways, it should look like a row of teeth with fangs on each end. :] I don't know, I'm happy with it, but have nothing else to really say on it, honestly!

I consumed books like water, like blood,
but somehow, I never read Twilight, and I never saw it either,
though all my friends loved it, and they cried to its pages.
I know it vicariously, through lectures on

racism and mormonism and propaganda,
but I think about it a lot anyway—the pale
skin of a boy who looked healthier playing
dead Cedric than he did playing undead.

He’s not gay, and it’s against his nature,
and that’s where the problem starts. He
always looks so sick in the pictures I see,
like a starving animal, like rotting fruit

sparkling in 100° heat, an unnatural hetero-
sexuality consuming him, destroying him.
Skin like shining, like stars, like plum skins
torn open, like teeth in necks, like glitter,

like glitter, like glitter, but he wants to kiss a
teenage girl. I’m consumed through him—this
person I don’t know. The cannibalism of a
gay creature into a straight woman’s fantasy.

I’d hold him, but I’m afraid to touch him for
the same reason you don’t pick up a broken mirror by hand.
In that way, glitter is a lot like blood—so easy to get on
your clothes, and so, so hard to wash out.

you are killing it with this theme, winter!! or is it unkilling if it's about undead... xD in any case, i've never been particularly interested in vampires, but that might change because this lore is fascinating. also, the execution is hypnotizing-- the tv static, the careful formatting (the fangs are v cool), the title drop... what a way to start napo!! looking forward to following along with your thread this month! :]

Oh my gosh, I am obsessed with this poem, AMAZING JOB @winterwolf0100.

I’d hold him, but I’m afraid to touch him for
the same reason you don’t pick up a broken mirror by hand.
In that way, glitter is a lot like blood—so easy to get on
your clothes, and so, so hard to wash out.

ahh, I love the flow of this and how clearly I can picture it all as I read!

@Quillfeather... TWILIGHT POEM!!!(Quill and I are obsessed)

Oh my goodness! Twilight poem spotted. That's so incredibly creative! I love how you turned it into a very interesting metaphorical thought!

Loving your Napo thread!

This one was way harder than I thought. Had the vague concept of mirrors, but couldn't figure out what exactly to do with it so it took me longer than I anticipated. >.> I am technically a little past midnight but I'm gonna count it as April 3 anyway because I did most of the writing on April 3, plus it's still Thursday for me XD I'm happy with where I got with this one, but it feels like it'll definitely need some good editing in the future. I won't respond to the comments above in this one since that feels like I'm forcing y'all to read my new poem 0.0 but I will respond to them below this :] thanks for reading!

Who are you, without the mirrors?
They’re shattered, baby, they’re gone, and
even if they were here, you wouldn’t see your reflection anyway.
Wiped clean, erased.

Do you think it’s just in your eyes?
The science part of your brain wants to argue,
say it’s impossible for light to just stop reflecting, it has to be there.
Baby, you forgot we die in the sun—there is no light here.

See, baby, there are two types of vampires:
those who knew they were pretty and can’t see it anymore,
and those who become beautiful and they’ll never see it either.
Depressing, I know, but what can the dead inherit anyway?

Let me be your comfort, baby,
and I’ll be your new pity masqueraded as new love, and you’ll tell me
I’m as gorgeous as I ever was, and I’ll never believe you because
I’ll never see anything to prove you right.

We’ll be like the vampires at the balls
in big fancy castles, tipsy on champagne,
hiding stumbles under big dresses as people whisper,
“look how they glide.”

You’ll stare longingly at the hallway behind you
reflected in sheets of glass, like if you stare hard enough, you’ll see
the makeup I spent hours layering onto your face because
you can’t stand the idea of being seen ‘naked.’

I’ll stand over your shoulder, head leaning against yours,
and kiss up your neck, and tell you you’re beautiful, and bless you,
you’ll believe it because you never doubted it, and
isn’t that the funniest thing?

You’ll cry yourself to sleep knowing you’ll
never see yourself again as we stand in a candlelit hallway,
ignoring the party in the other room made just for us.

You’ll cry yourself to sleep knowing I’ll
never see myself either, and I’m not upset by it.
I don’t understand why, but that makes you cry harder, like
you can’t help but put that guilt onto yourself,

as if it’s your words failing me, as if you aren’t convincing,
and I can see that it’s tearing you apart in your eyes,
but please, baby. Don’t blame yourself too much.
You gotta understand that even if we could see our reflections,

I wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

Another struggle bus but I am... okay with it? Maybe I'll feel better about it in the morning XD right now it feels kind of blegh. Also, for anyone curious who maybe doesn't recognize from the context clues, the movie is The Lost Boys. VERY good watch, and also one of my special interests so I am happy to talk about it all day >.>

It was mesmerizing, in a dark college dorm room,
lights turned off, friends beside me on the couch,
string lights burning into my back because they
kept falling off their hooks.

It's one of those movies you
can't tear your eyes away from and it
sinks deep into your bones, and you
feel like maybe there's something that's changed, like
the feeling of knowing that if I'd have been younger, I
would have cried out of the sheer desolation of knowing I'd
never get to step through the screen.

It was the first result to pop up when we searched for
"gay vampire movies" because we wanted to
feel something, and because he's the type of gay man who
hangs MCR photos in his bedroom and
watches vampires when he's sad, and
she's the type of gay woman who
goes to niche metal concerts and
plays dress-up in the dark.

The soundtrack doesn't have static—it's crystal clear—
but I could hear it in my brain anyway, the wires sparking,
the connection, fizzling out.

Scthhhh. Scthhhh. Scthhhh.

It felt incredible, like this unachievable wave of euphoria, like
a high you can't come down from.
It was one of those movies that wrecks your life, and you're as
devastated as you are elated.

The movie ended, and I changed my phone background.
I drove home, and read fanfiction until four a.m. that night,
and the next night, and the next night, and the next night,
and I showed up to classes so tired professors thought I was drunk,
Edward-eyes of shadows and bags, like dying, like dead,
like if I could just destroy my body enough, I'd end up in

Santa Carla. I'd walk the beaches, and
I'd go to the video store, and I'd tell Max how
the only times I've seen my dad cry at home were
when his dad died, and when I changed my name.
I'll tell my sob story, and I'll tell him I'm all alone, but
I'll be different from the other missing posters on the boardwalk
because I'll be dead, but I won't be dead.

I'm an actor and a masker and the child of a preacher--
I know how to be what people want.

The fantasy consumes me for a few weeks, until it
destroys my life a little too much—starts affecting my
homework, and my grades, and my self-esteem, and I
start to wish that I weren't so neurodivergent, so trans, so gay.

We looked up "gay vampire movies" because they said
they wanted to watch a vampire movie, and I said I
don't do horror, and I was too naive to realize that
with a brain as messed up as mine, they're
both the same in the end.

@Spearmint, thank you so much! I was ALSO not super interested in vampires until a few months ago, when I watched The Lost Boys and my brain chemistry was permanently altered XD only half-joking with that one, honestly >.> but yes!! The more I think of vampirism as a long-standing metaphor for being queer in the media, the more interested I become in what comparisons and connections I can make! It's all very interesting. Also, I appreciate your compliments <33

@EllieMae, thank youuuuu. I really appreciate it from such a known poetry person as yourself :]

@Quillfeather, thank you! I appreciate it :]

Voy a explicar todos a tí, Simon—
todo de ser un vampiro.

What? I don’t—

Listen up, Simon, and shut up, while you’re
at it. Take off your glasses. You don’t need
them. Stop hyperventilating. It’s pointless
when you don’t need the air. Get rid of the
childhood crush—she’ll die before you even
reach adulthood. Simon, nunca vas a ser un
adulto. ¿Me entiendes?

I don’t—

You’ll stay in the hotel, and you won’t
leave. You’re my child, whether I want you
or not, and I won’t let you burn, not in this
Go- argh… agh… (groaning in pain)

Are you—

¡NO! ¡ALTO! ESTOY BIEN, OK? I won’t let
you burn, not in this G- Gggodless place. Ay,
Di- aghhh! (heavy breathing) You weren’t
supposed to bite me. You understand that, don’t
you? I didn’t want you here. I don’t want you
here. But you’re here now—an abomination
in your own right. And now you’re here to stay.

I have to get back to Clary. I have to—

Somos abominaciones. Ahora, ¿me entiendes?
Ella no te quiere. Nunca no te quiere. Somos
antinaturales—un niño como tú, con amor para
una niña, y yo, un niño sin amor para nadie.
Esta existencia es aislada, ¿no? ¿Desearías estar
muerto? Desearás, hijo. Desearás.

I don’t… (sigh of defeat) I don’t speak Spanish.

(turns away) Take it as a blessing from me, then.
The last you’ll ever receive. You are damned now,
Simon. Do you understand that? You may think
you are not—but you will burn with the rest of us.

Honestly, I was SUPER hesitant to include the translations here, but simply because I don't trust google translate and I know people are gonna look it up anyway, I've included them. That said, here's the poem entirely in English, with the express knowledge it is not meant to be initially read that way.

[spoiler]I'm going to explain everything to you, Simon—
everything about being a vampire.

What? I don’t—

Listen up, Simon, and shut up, while you’re
at it. Take off your glasses. You don’t need
them. Stop hyperventilating. It’s pointless
when you don’t need the air. Get rid of the
childhood crush—she’ll die before you even
reach adulthood. Simon, you're never going to be an
adult. Do you understand me?

I don’t—

You’ll stay in the hotel, and you won’t
leave. You’re my child, whether I want you
or not, and I won’t let you burn, not in this
Go- argh… agh… (groaning in pain)

Are you—

NO! STOP! I'M FINE, OK? I won’t let
you burn, not in this G- Gggodless place. Ay,
Di- aghhh! (heavy breathing) You weren’t
supposed to bite me. You understand that, don’t
you? I didn’t want you here. I don’t want you
here. But you’re here now—an abomination
in your own right. And now you’re here to stay.

I have to get back to Clary. I have to—

We are abominations. Now do you understand me?
She doesn't want you (romantically). She will never want you (romantically). We are
unnatural-- a boy like you, with love for
a girl, and I, a boy without love for anyone.
This existence is lonely, no? Do you wish you were
dead? You will, child. You will.

I don’t… (sigh of defeat) I don’t speak Spanish.

(turns away) Take it as a blessing from me, then.
The last you’ll ever receive. You are damned now,
Simon. Do you understand that? You may think
you are not—but you will burn with the rest of us.

This poem was really interesting to tackle. I knew I wanted to discuss The Mortal Instruments, and it'll be the subject of at least one more poem that I write sometime in the future. This poem is from the prospective of Rafael, who is canonically asexual/aromantic. He grew up Catholic, and now, as a vampire, it causes him physical name to say the name of God because he is unholy. Simon has just been turned into a vampire, and this poem is my thoughts on how the conversation could be conveyed behind closed doors, without Clary, the protagonist, there to overhear it.

AHHH SPANISH POEM love to see ittttt and omg it is so so nice to be able to understand the language and know that "Ay / Di- aghhh!" is the speaker (the father?) struggling to say "God" in Spanish, exactly as he was struggling to do in English. and the parent speaking to the non-bilingual child is an additional layer of heartbreak for this poem </3 so good.

@Spearmint thank you!! : D I’m so glad you enjoyed it! The speaker is his vampire father, though technically, they look the same age. In the books, Rafael (the speaker) is pretty old but he’s in the body of his 17 year old self bc that’s when he got turned. Simon (the person he’s addressing) bit Rafael in self-defense and accidentally drank some of his blood, thus being turned. It’s pretty fascinating lore, and in the books, Rafael strongly dislikes him but is also like “well, you drank my blood so now you’re my responsibility” and I really wanted to channel that energy of not rlly knowing each other, but this familial obligation all the same. Thank youuuu <333