Nosferatu

a melted reflection
the nose of a gorilla, skin that flakes and falls like ash.
it wasn't always so, but I'm getting used to it.
I've had to do a lot of adapting.
you start to not mind having a vestigial liver,
or any other organ, for that matter.
who misses having to take a leak?
not me.
a back-alley bite to the neck just like in the movies.
I woke up and couldn't look in a mirror without being sick.
but I'm getting used to it.
like I said, I've gotten used to a lot.
stalking my own alleys now, though not for company—
I'm not misery. books are so melodramatic.
I've got syringes, tubes, jars, tranquilizers
all clean, however they look.
(the pickings from laboratory dumpsters aren't great)
just a small donation, thanks
you get a bandage when I'm done
and a great story to tell at parties.
I do five or six a night so they don't spend a week on the verge of collapse.
I'm that nice a gal, however I look.
just trying to make it day by day
or night by night
like anyone else.
it's no worse than being alive—
just different.