Scene Two: FrankenKyrie
Galvanization (Dyer-bolique)
‘Subjugation of your body and soul,
Welcomed with gracious heart, at the hands of my carnal desire.
Your will dully accepted in delight, with gratitude’s regard, and absence of mind.
New limbs I shall impart, via force of nature, and calculated dementia,
You shall be articulated this night.
‘Oh, a missing right leg, left as stigmatized stump, grinning with keloid’s mirth,
Soon repaired by swift scalpel stroke, and mechanics of a Winchester’s girth.
What’s that you say? A missing arm, once severed at my behest.
Yes, it was discarded,
In the larder breaded and barded.
I ate it with feverish pickled herring and beer!
Have no fear, the doctor is here!
‘As night approaches, and lightening encroaches, you will be made kind of whole tonight.
So, sit back, enjoy it!
Don’t plead or attempt to spoil it,
This won’t sting a bit.
Your scars were ridden,
Your body to do as bidden.
As the moon hides its light,
Galvanization is coming,
Victor, I am becoming,
As the electric storm wields its might!’
Valkyrie Unbound (Valkyrie)
Flow of morphia abates, and the unbound does stand,
First time for a stranger, born callously to a new land.
Before the mirror I stretch, and absorb my new form,
A creature so profound that the vultures do swarm.
Sabbatical taken, but a new course this does warrant,
Reluctantly I scribe tales of immediate resignation,
Further surrendering your bleak will abhorrent,
A smug smirk and you post without hesitation.
Broken, monstrous psyche, driven to decisions naïve,
Broken, monstrous body, reflecting my spirit’s frayed weave.
Flow of morphia abates, and I take my clumsy stride,
Each stumble, forfeiture. Each fall, you defeat me,
My only Shangri-La: In your shadow I hide.
Perseverance, a necessity.
Broken, monstrous psyche, driven to the next liquidation,
Broken, monstrous body, reflecting new skill of extermination.
Your possession,
Your creature,
Your plaything,
Your weapon.
Creature and Flame (Dyer-Bolique)
Destruction and Rebirth, a song rendering Death’s domineering canter still.
Eternity that once was my arena, crumbles in the wake of unsanctified design.
Abjections within purgatory fail on the majesty of my work’s symphony and skill.
Terrified, the cries of mortality that diminish against my ascending crescendo divine.
Humbled shall be the hosts of heaven, and the dregs the of lowly hells by your will!
Beauty is now in the guise of your hybrid body, shaped on purity of flesh and machination.
Elation of your humanoid limbs, amalgamated rifle as both crutch and replacement leg.
Cleaved arm now restored to glory; its whispered venom shall dispense my unholy creation.
Omnipotence resides within your cry, silently calling to be allowed to feed, pity shall beg.
Mercy shall not cast its dice, justice will not intercede, non-spared our indignation.
Integrity destroyed against the fervour of your Urumi appendage.
Neither innocence nor temperance safe from my degradation.
‘Go now child, dispatch my FLAME!’
Legacy’s Lash (Valkyrie)
Amid life’s errant metamorphosis, I extend my lash,
Practising the bladed whip’s gait, I distend my lash.
You watch, titivated, and stirred, by your warrior,
Wedged stance and motivated, you commend my lash.
Behind my bright eyes I plot your gruesome downfall,
All you witness is an artist’s kata, as I tend my lash.
Distracting you, my primary task, misdirected magician,
My intentions impervious, as I comprehend my lash.
Fidelity offered and devotion bequeathed, I ascend,
Depending on you as you fend for me, I transcend my lash.
Petrarchan Parade (Dyer-Bolique)
Your transformation astonishes before my eyes,
For fealty’s hand given, and now dotingly accepted,
I cannot conceive that I may truly ever regret it.
For how could I know that you are plotting my demise?
With sleight of hand, conniving glances, a rivalry soon reprised.
Such are things, cast as fog against sun, easily forgotten,
I have a gift for thee, my love once misbegotten.
A carnival of captured souls, ready for their demise!
For they once resided amongst the hollows of our domain,
Dishevelled and imploring our consideration and charity,
I parade them now, in front of you, waiting as lambs to be slain.
Raise up your armoured and loaded leg, dispatch with impunity’s bane,
Dispense your ammunition, present your decimation, destroy society.
Become My Phoenix, imbued with the shared wickedness profane!
YOU ARE READING
The Thorn and His Rose: An Immortalis Chapbook
HorrorA theatrical, visceral horror tale. Artistically presented, methodically planned, and cruelly realized. Lovers, serial killers, turning their macabre passion into an artform, but as their depravities grow, so too does their respective paranoias. As...
