Theres the calm stillness that embraces the morning with bloody sun-streaks splayed upon a spotted window-- it beckons the sleepers from their picturesque dreams to yawn and stretch, letting their eyes absorb the vermilion light and then bathe in mornings fresh warmth-- daybreaks sun-spilled blood; empowered by feeding on the candent veins of earth. There is soft whispering at night, then placid suspense before the morning vampires feed upon deathly sacrifice-- afterwards rinsing the coagulated stains that coat their deep-tan flesh to then emerge from their reputable households outwardly civil, bourgeois, hygienic, aesthetic, discreet, and corrupted underneath.