menace


the butcher boy slips out of his murder garments
soaked in a puree of lost soul plasma
wheezing as he coughs up the remnants of his tar-plagued lungs
through so many years of his adolescence
he knew no better
he knew of no better way to live
than in the shadow of his sire
the creator of life, the proprietor of sexual liaison
the man who had it all
knew it all
lived it all

but the butcher boy, deep within himself, could not quell the tumult
that raged within his heart
he could feel the blood as it burst through the pinholes
carved so hollow
pupils dilated
the perfect release
giving way to the burden of disaffection that his father was encumbered with
oh lamented sire, angry at the heavens for stealing away his beloved

she was so beautiful
so perfect that he would do anything, touch anything, make her feel anything she wanted
just to put those demons to rest
but his sword reached only so far
and once they lunged out and summoned death
to her aching bosom
death did abide to the harsh enmity of fate
as death is wont to doing

and the butcher boy and his father were made weak and frail by this evil cruel and
torturous oblivion
the father left him to wither in a past of jaded empty and forsaken memories
and spoke of him, to him, never again
only for him
spoke of happiness
spoke of doubt
sung his spiteful mantra to the gods

cast into the warm belly of the beast within
the menace that ripped off her clothes and stood in the nude before him
oh! such a cruel method of derision
but fate knows of no other
her entire purpose in life was to steal his heart away from the death of his love
to bring him back from the ghost castles and empty beaches
that marked the apex of his westward stride
the father lighted a cigarette and smiled to this naked figure, his muse
the butcher boy could not bear to watch the memory of his mother betrayed
filled with a morbid vengeance, the threat of anguish entered his body
thru every crevice imaginable, burning and stinging and bringing a torrent of tears
to his black eye

the blackness that made him blind, made him deaf to the rigors of the outerworld
heaven decided to fight fate, to rip it to shreds as only the gods were capable of doing
the inward battle had begun, its inertia causing him to slip and become ensnared in its
gravity
and he thrashed, he rebuked
weaving a spiderweb threaded with purity
languished and forsaken in this ethereal war
dead made living, living made dead
ghosts made real and reality made a ghost

the butcher boy and his axe...
	sharpened and battle-ready
raised above his head...
	lost in the mass of grey thunderclouds above
his lonely father slumbering in a chair...
	he who can not bear witness to the eternal failing of his grace
	he who may never know his fate as it truly appears
the menace charging forth...
	blindly through the tunnels of its vision
	myopic as immortality plays a chameleon to its eyes
swinging the blade with a deadly arc...
	deadly in that it will render all lifeless
	the fool that dares to stand in its mighty path of execution
and the menace became two...
	and the silence was its pistol
	and the mire was its blood
swinging the blade with a deadly arc...
	deadly in that it will make everything
	the way it never was
and the menace became three...
	and it began to breed
	and his ire gave birth to its children
swinging the blade with a deadly arc...
	deadly in that it strikes with a force so fatal
	it creates life
and the menace became four...
	multiplying with each hit
	nevermore in fear of what secrets it could not reveal
at a standstill, adrift in limbo...
	two battalions each in a tight deadlock
and the menace became a hundred...
	it was not meant to die like this
he knew only to continue...
	he knew only what his father taught him
and the menace became a thousand...
	he knew of no better way to live
	than in the shadow of his sire

swinging the blade with a deadly arc...
	he could not comprehend the transgressions of an empty conscience
	an anger paramount to that of mortals
the father awaking to the cacophony...
...the last beauty on this earth
...torn to pieces
...mangled and made inexistent
...fell to his knees
...kissed both halves of her mouth
...tears raging at the depravation of her innocence
...rising in defiance
...striking the butcher boy with a force unmatched by that of worldly beings

the butcher boy and his axe
swinging the blade with a deadly arc
...the father holding still
...the head that once belonged to him
...removed with a swift blow of impartiality
...the perfect release
...the last method of his disconnections
...it is the price one must pay for disobeying the might of heaven

body and soul crucified to each an opposite end of the universe
and left to drift apart forever
lost in the blooming of galaxies and the birth of celestial suns and daughters
it is the infinite price one must pay
for disturbing the silence of fate

	thou shalt not strike thy nemesis to the ground
	or thou shalt be punished to the infinite degree

his work finished
the butcher boy slips out of his murder garments, lights another cigarette
and with axe in hand
treads upon the path to his (vacant) home
thru the forest and the river
across the desert and up the mountain
into the mass of grey thunderclouds
skipping on the ice crystals
going out to play somewhere between the stars and the dark side of the moon
never again to be found

	thou shalt disappear forever
	the kiss of death upon thy mouth




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