I see no strife beheading them with blade
Or rudiment’ry saw. Nor hanging them
Within my room by hooks and chains and straps
Until they kicked no more, succumbing help-
Less, breathless, lifeless to the crushing grip
Of strangulation. Words cannot begin
To speak my pleasure so profound to see
Them languish agonising, though lament
I do that weak they are I quickly fill
My cup with sweetest honey – no, it will
Not do, I must have more. To dine upon
Falsetto screams, to drink the wine their cries
Excrete does satisfy desire. So young
They are, so fresh and delicate – I hold
The hope each time that they will give to me
My chance and die and suffer not too fast.
An offering my servants give to me
To make their lord fulfilled, although upon
My order they perform. Bestow reward
Upon the kind and gentle creatures, yes,
For it ensures a ripened fruit. No rot
To spoil nor chafe the burning tongues with which
Desire laps my bliss. One purse of gold
For ev’ry blossom brought – one more when they
Delete the feeble mothers who will wail
Against my walls and do insist I show
Compassion. Mercy, mercy beg the whores,
“Remove them from my sight!” I call and sure
And quick and silent come my loyal dogs
Who bound with glee to quick escape the great
And caring bosom Dame Sedition keeps,
Wherein they nestle comf’tably until
My orders wake them from their sleep with loud
And booming summon.
Torture right and just
Befits a crime yet uncommitted – though,
Confess I shall, repent I never can.
Regret is not a burden that I bear.
A murd’rous swine, devil come before
Humanity I hear, though they are wrong.
Among us is he not, though grinning waits
Forever with my soul behind my throne.
A pact unbreakable – to break it I
Wish not. A treaty made in blacken’d blood
Eternal – to curtail it I wish not.
In silence drawing rapture from the scene
As venom leaves a wound – injecting pain
Into my very force – I feel a tide
Erotic fill my guts. The infant’s death,
Supplied with grace by sweeping anguish’s squeeze,
Stirs potions for profound arousal which
Unslaked will snake about. The children lash
And hang and bleed and wail and whip and bleed
Which makes the serpent dance and sway and writhe
In begging search of striking. Wait, dear snake
And patience grants you pleasure. Wait until
They live no more, then strip and rape them! Give
Them equal offering, they were all so good
Enough that they subject to you their forms!
So take the tender gift and savour well
Sweet vampire. Faster and harder and surer your strike
Does fatally make the diff’rence. Tomorrow we dine
Again, o devil, my devil – we shall invest
In hurt! Another warm submission – blood
For blood, the snake shall strike the youth once more.
End.
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