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Necromentia

*Vespertine, fatal dream

Mistress conjuring shapes of night

Seventeen little fiends

Elegy for a demon’s plight*

 

 

Alone in my study, sitting

before a roaring fire

Visions so ******

they churn desire

 

With the dead of night

summoning hellish zest

They come to incinerate

my corrosive flesh

 

The hymns of St. Lazarus beckon solace

from the cathedral outside

But I linger here in the bowels,

where my ancestral sins reside

 

Animistic stares gazing through

these dead-soul dreams

Where another horror story is not

always what it seems

 

Portraits of deceased queens

looked down at me with blackened eyes

Layers of muffled screams

festered while judging my vacant lies

 

Years before, my grandmother watched

over me as a boy in his bed;

Endless, ambiguous rhymes of prayer

are what she often said.

 

She promised to ban the spirits

that steadily linger

But dark twisting hands

outreached and took her

 

The monsters and invisible abominations

have always been here

Following my whereabouts,

watching me year after year

 

Subtle ghosts keeping my heart

and house cold

I sat and waited for what my

icy breath foretold

 

The dreams, the demons, the ghosts

all that severed me

From experiencing the love of flesh

I so forever longed to see

 

 

Came the hour the church bells rang and tolled

 

 

The dread of things to come

The moans and cries had begun

 

From lissome shadows and corridors

Like Charon beating souls with oars

 

 

Creeping evil fled

to the refuge of my home

To reap the sins

that my family had sewn

 

The rippling, screeching strings

of a malevolent orchestra

Scored and produced themes

worthy of infernal Sumatra

 

The flames in the fireplace

surged a green incendiary wall

From the hell mouth jaw emerged

a dark figure I saw.

 

Mother Mephistopheles,

clad in silvery pieces with a pale face

Manifesting atrocities, her emerald eyes

welcoming our embrace

 

I backed away from the sights in,

my trance lost in her glimmer

But the noises and choir peaked

in a swarming fit for a sinner

 

In a gush of surrounding ash, Father Selaphiel materialized

The otherworld lovers reunited,

their bond revitalized.

 

“We come unto thee, Son of Faust, heir to Blake.”

They said in unison like a choral demon snake

 

“*Create a fleshling worthy of a child, of many in one

So the deeds of your family’s sins can be undone.*”

 

I stared at the figures with execrable bewilderment

Fearing my sanity had seeped through my temperament

 

They threaten my eternal existence with continued torment

A living anguish that would solidify my hell-bound descent

 

“What must be done?” I asked these surrogate advisers

 

And they instructed

A body made from flesh and metal

Of dead and living components

Blessed and cursed

From God and Satan

Men and creature

Using their collected powers

to merge with the night

I swept across the villages

and cities to obtain the materials

Now all these years, I’ve wondered

Why my medical expertise had been put to waste

“Did the demons prevent me?” I pondered

“Or did they aid me?” I concluded in my haste

 

Innocent or not, I claimed what I needed

To rid myself of the terrors deep-seated.

 

A steel-woven chest piece

and half-incinerated cadaver

Twenty feet of large intestines;

boys, girls didn’t matter

 

Shelled-out cranial cavity

with cerebral cortex to match

Mixing bladders and gallbladders

worth its catch

 

Punctured spleens and insolent creams

Circulatory, digestive, endocrine,

 

Iron bones, infused tendons mount

Smells and rancid odors spilling out

 

Guts, pus, worms and maggoty brains

Boiling in holy water with dried remains

 

Sacks of chain mail and velveteen potions

Seething concoctions conflate emotions

 

Patches of caustic skin made like adamant leather

Bolted with steel fingered brutally severed

 

Into gauntlet armor, this mechanized abomination

Personifying my sickened, wailing degradation

 

I showed Father and Mother my life’s work and creation

A flesh-iron shell waiting, they stood with appreciation

 

“Vespertine…” they called to the collage of my work

They petted its face while the shadows continued to lurk

 

Seventeen little fiends and creatures

appeared and surround

The moon shined through the glass

and the room around

 

The Seventeen shadow children became smoke and entered the monster

Now a being both ethereal and corporeal

 

My sins and demons locked in my own creation

Mother Mephistopheles and Father Selaphiel

Left Vespertine in my care

 

All that plagued me

All that haunted me

 

Personified, solidified

And barely alive.

 

My half-dead servant.

 

and Halloween child

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Written by
trevor-gates
26 / M / American
Published
Sep 4, 2013
Lines·Words
136·734
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