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Metamorphoses of the Vampire

Death of Marat, 1907, Edvard Munch.

The woman however, her strawberry mouth,
In writhing like a snake on the embers, And
kneading her breasts on his iron comb,
Let flow these words impregnated with musk:
"Me, I lip wet, and I know science
Losing the bottom of a bed of ancient consciousness.
I dry all tears on my triumphant breasts
And make old men laugh with the laughter of children.
I replaced, who sees me nude, without veils,
The moon, sun, sky and stars!
I am, my dear scholar, so learned in pleasure,
when I smother a man in my fearful arms, Or when I give
bites my bust,
timid and licentious, frail and robust
That disclaimer mattress swoon with excitement,
The powerless angels would damn themselves for me! "

When she had sucked all of my bone marrow, and
I languidly turned toward her
To give him a kiss of love, I no longer live
That addition to the sticky sides, full of pus!
I closed both my eyes, cold terror,
And when I opened them to the bright light,
At my side, instead of the dummy powerful
Who seemed to have a store of blood,
Trembled vaguely skeletal debris, Who
themselves made the cry of a weathercock
Or a sign on the end of a rod of iron,
That balance the wind during winter nights.

Charles Baudelaire