Love Song For a Vampire

It arrives in a slate of unobtrusive  blackness.  Blackness awaiting the moment of conception. Blackness awaiting the rococo niceties of the womb, blackness awaiting the winking peach of a dawn that has been sacrificed and never comes. it arrives in blackness. It starts out the way the universe started out, cloaked in a valence of impenetrable nothingness, cloaked in a bridal veil of guttural darkness, complete nothingness, the moment when the universe began or when subatomic matter imploded, succumbing crunching gothic ions into nothing ness, the sound the color black makes as if brushes against the lids of your eyes. There is a quiet desolation to the beginning of the song. The color of quarter notes against the sheet music white of her forehead. The song begins in darkness.  It breathes. The plosive vowels of the pipe organ in grinding in aortic yawns ,gnawing, abrading, succumbing the dalliance of the dead mingled with the lips of the world to come. Vampire crucified on a grinding metronome. It is trying resuscitate itself even though it has never been alive, even though it has never been dead, from somewhere over the soar horizon breaths of a pipe-organ begin to chirp, biting like fangs into the porcelain neck of the virgin that is time.