Design

My family wasn’t one to indulge in my life choices.
Within opulent halls that perfectly echoed crow calls,
I would steal out into the night.
Collecting teeth, body parts, ashes for one of the many voices.

I would sequester in my room during the day.
Fearing that the absence of my treasures would alter and sway without me to keep them safe from the cold dark violence.
I would consume out of compulsion, oddly not feeling anything linger on my conscience.

The halls of the manor echoed with fear as more and more of my family noticed my emotional and physical changes.
My increased reclusion became all the more normal as my outward appearance began one of its many rearranges.

My jaw would creak and crack as it seemed to separate from the muscles gifted by God.
My teeth felt sharper each day, grinding my lower lip bare.
My skin would stretch and tear, wrack my hands against the stone of these halls, not in pain but despair.

Despite my self-disgust, I continued to indulge in my fixation on the ingestion of human flesh.
It was getting to the point where the carrion I gathered would not placate or satiate it,
It would only drive me further towards the walking fresh.

Become one with the monstrosity I had sired within my skin.
Hunt the crimson life that walks ignorantly through the foggy streets,
Consume the flesh and all things therein.

This realization haunted me for a mere minute. Before I took to the town, bones shone and became apparent.

Breath after breath, the air marked my excitement.
The light mustn’t show my approach,
My disproportioned gate, misplaced joints.
I rushed through the streets like an otherworldly cockroach.

Fingernails ripe with dirt and decay,
I fell upon the scent that stuck with me, drew me closer, did not dissuade.
It was brilliant and bright. Citrus and clear.
The woman stood in the open air without knowledge of me there,
Ignorant to the fear.

A protracted arm reached through mist-filled air.
Fingers wrapping around the delicate waist, so unaware.
With a grip that dares to break her in two,
I pulled this feast into my serrated hug before even a slight scream would cut through.
I consumed my darling prey in the night,
Losing myself completely, no longer a wight.

I would consume the town and all therein.
Fuse the bodies and drape them over the house of mankind’s sin.
A chapel of abhorrence,
A dead city’s moan.
I became one with the beast within my bones.

Thrones

How can I get it through your head?
This constant turmoil.
I know what I said.

Give me my six feet of soil.
Tell me what I can do to start the quiet.
Something beautiful and violent.
Tell me this was meant for me.

I don’t want to be free.
Give me my six feet of soil.
Drop me in and despoil.
Leave my bones.
They remind me of all my false thrones.

Give me what I want.
I’m tired of of the constant personality shunt.
Give me the crushing black.
Somehow end this all and give me myself back.

Build our kingdom from my blood and bones.
Write our scripture with pretty, violent undertones.
Leave me at the top so I can feel like I contributed to this kingdom made of me.
I only had to die to give you all something to see.