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He drank, thirsting for her;
with stygian lips pressed to her neck,
She was exsanguinated.

The squalid night-beast, left her lifeless body, 
behind an alley dumpster. 
No moonlight betrayed the remnants,
of his latest meal.
Any slight remorse, that he felt,
was obliterated by the metal-sweet taste, 
upon his vile tongue.
He was alive again and 
there were more than enough prey, 
to nourish him, for an eternity.

Aerial bound, for his charnel palace, 
he would sleep like the god he fancied himself.
For eight-hundred years he had perfected his hunt.  
His travels had taken him through the steeps and berms,
 of antipodal continents and he had viewed 
what most humans, could not.

The hellish beast loved the hunt, 
as much as, his meals.
 When prey inadvertently approached his abode,
it was left free; 
he savored the taste of the chase, 
as much as, the catch.

The elixir of life was ambrosia;
The likes of which, he’d not tasted in his mortality.
How he longed to thank the beast he’d once feared, for bestowing immortality upon him.  

When the next gibbous moon took its flight, 
the cravings awoke him.
Dressed in his finest, modern day attire 
he set upon his task.

There’s a peculiar thing about Vampire,
they fancy themselves invincible.
Old vampires, like mortals, are often,
Over confident and become careless.
On his last hunt he lost his head,
to the single swipe,
of a large were-claw!

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