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My father was a vampire & I get this from him: 
dread of daylight, sick morning quease.  It is why
I fight for things I don't want, this compulsion for elixir.
Limbs shake & I am vile pressure sky.  So ill
I cannot even prepare coffee-grounds ephedrin
for that liquid injection.  He has given me a necklace of bones 
& crystal.  Evil will not dare touch me.

My mother slept too much, retired to bed in 
midday comas & I tried to revive her with forceful tea
but no mechanism worked.  Four o'clock was the saddest hour - 
no lamps on & silence corrupting.  She has barely aged,
all these years & people say she's a lily-skinned witch
with milk baths & smokey spells.  Agelessness was her gift 
to me.  

We lived in a city of sugar cube buildings, 
wet ruins dissolve.  A doll's house, scratches on 
the furniture and a little toy brother.  I learned to cast veils
of invisibility & nobody could see resemblance in feature.
In those years, my bones were made of powder.

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