Mark Matthews | + Follow Poet |
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Signed In Blood (Part4)

Now for the final act,
I go over to the broad
      lying on the floor
                  quivering,
grab her by the restraint
     and prop her up
so she can watch the show ,
bending down to her
    I skillfully 
        slice away
            her eyelids,
she mustn’t miss
                any of this.
I kick her mate
    into the middle of the floor,
snap my fingers
releasing him
    then step on his back
         and bring his right arm up
                    and start twisting it,
as it comes free
my ears pick up
     on the horrific howl
being projected
    into the atmosphere
                   by me
drowning out all sounds.

To calm myself
    I start gnawing on his arm
with her watching
               the whole while,
time for the feast to begin,
    slowly I step down
                      on his head,
I can feel the bones
      in his skull start to separate
and as his eyes pop out
the resistance is gone
            and his brain
        squeezes 
out the top of his head.

I turn and stare
    at my last toy,
  blood and tears
               marring her face,
           this is gonna fulfill me.
getting down on all fours
    I crawl over
        and start eating
    her left calf,
her rasping cries
    drift into my ears
like a dirge
   being played
      for the recently dead.
I work my way
     up to her thigh
   then the other leg,
        then to her belly,
now in a total frenzy.

I force myself
         out of my feeding
    and look down
  at what’s left
of this pathetic wretch,
I retract my claws
    and place my hands
          on her cheek and chest
releasing
        the glorious rot
that exists within me,
    that is how 
         she shall spend
her last moments,
     decaying 
            in a pile of herself.

Standing 
       I brush off my coat,
turn to the closest
bloodstained wall
    and with a tendril
  scribe
“The taste of the masses
      has quenched me,
  but woo to those
     who disturb my slumber
   with their malice
   to society,
           my next message
   will be written in their blood.”

As I head 
    out the door
I hear a cell phone ringing
      too bad
the dead can’t answer,
   the tale they would tell
        could crack the heavens.

Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2008

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