The lady, meanwhile, his lips quivering as strawberry
a snake
coals and kneading her breasts on the hard brace, said these words
impregnated with musk:
my lips are moist and science know
losing in the bottom of a bed of consciousness,
Dry all the tears in my breasts triumphant.
and I smile at the old with childlike laughter.
to those who can contemplate'm awake,
the moon, and I am the sun, sky and stars.
I am, my dear wise, so learned in pleasure,
When flushing a man in my arms feared
bites or when I leave my bust,
shy and slight, fragile and robust,
That these blankets that emotion surrender,
Helpless angels lost on me.
When he had sucked the marrow of my bones and very languidly
I turned toward her
In order to return a kiss, I just saw
full of pus, a chalice sticky.
I closed both eyes with ice cream and when I wanted terror
open to that clarity,
At my side, instead of strong
mannequin who seemed to have made provision for my blood, crashed into confusion
skeleton fragments,
Of which rose squeaks,
as a bitter and hellish weather vane,
or a cartel, after a rod of iron,
that caresses the wind in the winter evenings.
Charles Baudelare.
blood drinkers 
Cree
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