As I fast emaciate here on linoleum, I wonder why my morality's saved the runt. I waste away and refuse to feed. As I've overlooked all the guilt in me, and now it shall cause my armour to sunder, becoming my calamity. I brittle my bones in the way of a lover. I've drawn away to these cellar bones, abandoned by humanity as something more like animal. I never gave this curse my full control. If the afterlife has closed its doors, a vampire isn't last of what would force them ajar.