Unspeakable scent

Inhaled by our lungs

Lost in ecstasy

Dying of the thirst

The sight of crimson

Pouring from those deadly wounds

Inflicted by the Dark Gift itself.

Cursed be the choice

For it is not by force

An unspeakable scent

Hearing the thumping of the heart

Pumping the fresh crimson

Throughout the mortal body

Like a cycle that can last a lifetime

Tele-psychosis of the cells

Dropping upon thy tongue

That succulent taste of the blood

That will once again

Call your name.