A/N: This is poetry. Rather strange, but okay I suppose.

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The Hunt
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Before the sweet blood that runs through your veins,

Before the final licking of red stains off my lips,

Before the morbid fascination with the elixir of life,

There is a process

A hunt,

To go through.

First I must find you, child.

In some sleazy corner

Vulnerable and shaking of fear.

Reeking of fear.

To overpower you and find the neck.

The flesh.

The thin flesh that is so easy,

So joyfully easy,

To pierce.

Sheets of shimmering fear rise off you as I find this neck.

And finally

I feed.

The sweetness running through me like

The way a child savors their mother's milk.

----

Las Noches

---

Lights

Lights

Lights

Spinning

Red

Shattered mirrors

Music

That runs through the body like

Blood.

Dance, dance, feverish vampiric dance

Or rest at the tables

And stare at the rest,

While nursing the drink whose glass cools your fingers

And dew rest at its lip.

The red lights washing every

Body.