The Thorn and His Rose, Act Two: A Monstrous Tapestry.
Act One here.
Intermission here.
In Act Two: A Monstrous Tapestry, the dark and twisted love story of Valkyrie and Dyer-Bolique reaches new depths of horror and intimacy. As they navigate a world rife with cannibalistic desires and psychopathic schemes, their bond solidifies amidst gruesome feasts and sinister plans. Each scene unfolds a chilling narrative of unholy cravings—humanity devoured, and lives extinguished—all orchestrated in a macabre dance of death and passion.
Witness Valkyrie embrace her monstrous nature as she experiments with her newfound power and dark intrigue, all while motivated by a chilling love for Dyer-Bolique. Their insatiable thirst fuels a relentless pursuit of victims and experiences that border on the surreal. Will their relationship survive the weight of their blood-soaked adventures, or will it unravel in a terrifying climax where love and death become indistinguishable?
Summary
- Unfolding Dark Desires: In this act, Valkyrie and Dyer-Bolique deepen their connection through grotesque acts of cannibalism and moral depravity, as each victim becomes a canvas for their twisted creativity.
- Macabre Power Dynamics: As they plot and execute their horrific designs, Valkyrie grows more emboldened in her monstrous role, while Dyer-Bolique grapples with his dark urges, creating a volatile balance of desire and dominance.
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Climactic Confrontation: Challenges arise as their love teeters on the edge of oblivion, leading to a transformative and fatal resolution where the boundaries of life and death blur, culminating in a haunting finale that echoes the perils of their unholy union.
Act Two: A Monstrous Tapestry
Scene One: Vrykolakos
A Monstrous Tapestry (Valkyrie)
We darken our table once more,
A sombre requiem lament within,
Threnody for my wings so cruelly clipped.
Human liver between teeth,
As I seek remedy.
Fear resides elsewhere, I am bold,
Confidant in the love my cold heart still holds.
An alien situation for most, confidence exasperates.
Human kidney on tongue,
As I suggest remedy.
‘Our tapestry is woven, our story now spun,
Yet the narrative is crying, seeking pastures new,
A monstrous genre befitting, lives taken just as before,
Each death reflecting a sub-genre of horror,
Enticing great, masterful gore.’
Feeding into your swelling ego,
And hardened, ostentatious pride,
I observe as the concept surges into design.
Your tongue between lips,
As you reflect remedy.
Feigning truth-marred submission,
I encourage your darkness to emerge,
And as your lips release mine the story begins.
Your thoughts between mine,
As we reflect remedy,
A new dalliance does begin.
Hellion Intrigue (Dyer-Bolique)
‘You cater to my darkest inclinations,
Proud and thoughtful in unholy intent.
Perhaps sinful lust serves ferocity’s menace?
A different course of action may pay penance,
Exsanguination disguised as vampiric essence spent?
You cater to my darkest inclinations.
Perhaps united by nature’s electrical divinations,
Powered by sky’s spectre and bodily dismemberment,
Force of mother earth could birth a hulking menace!?
You forget memory’s soul and blade’s consensus,
Upon savagery’s beauty and steel’s resentment.
You cater to my darkest inclinations.
Thoughts of loved ones renewed from hell’s nations,
Once more given licence to occupy living continents.
Devouring our victim’s flesh with relish and menace.
The undertaking proposed utterly tremendous,
my appetite is aflame, our becoming truly transcendent!
You cater to my darkest inclinations, however…
Where to begin this burgeoning menace?’
Feeding His Ego (Valkyrie)
‘You feed from me within my dreams,
Notions of a Wallachian Count penetrating,
Moving on to more malevolent themes,
A thirst derived from fangs exsanguinating.’
Your lusty eyes lock on my shell, so hollow,
‘Underground groups seek online for domination,
A vampiric master to feed, worship and follow,
Mausoleum bound, grant her exsanguination,
And let her, in her own desire, wallow.’
Alluring offering, sacrifice to your fallen whim,
I continue my discourse, the penitent’s flow,
‘To penetrate adorn a sharpened, bladed ring.’
Feeding your ego, I watch your skin glow.
So, it is set, the upcoming scene,
And my body is safe from his ego supreme.
Dragons Tithe (Dyer-bolique)
An Acolyte’s tithe, throat teeming, and hands bound tight,
Within this holy and sanctified crypt, sacrificial.
The wanton sow brimming with savoury’s delight,
For within my thirst’s potentiality, we feast on her tonight!
‘A consort’s tribute received with resurging adoration!
For such sweet suffering could be painted on a blank canvas!
Durations of which are relevant to her last view and exsanguination!
It continues the struggle’s upturned pendulum, true pirouettes of relevance!
You have done well this night, my flight aberration!’
With inspired license I commence my artistic homage,
Drawing swift and deep of this writing aesthetic,
Revelling in the gaze of veracity’s haemorrhaging carnage,
Simpering quells, resistance deemed most pathetic.
My chalice is full, lifeforce of the oblation, my arty theatrics.
‘Join me hence, my half-dismembered plaything,
Sup of her essence and join me in the banquet!
Absorb a creature’s life, hasten the deadening,
Abound in my mercy of Nosferatu’s dragon, my becoming!’
A Vampiric Tribute
A nightmarish canvas is flayed before me,
Her responses swift to my lover’s desire,
Preparing to sate blood and fantasy’s dichotomy,
She falls into the bonds of my unrepentant Dyer.
Tarpaulin shackled and dragged to the tomb,
She struggles and kicks like a rabid dog,
Chained and tormented under death’s loom,
Confused she twists and dances in the smog.
You draw from her suffering a wanton mirth,
You draw from your ring a talon like shank,
You draw from her throat her life force’s worth,
You draw from my essence an evil so rank.
We feed on the outpour of crimson’s warm spice,
We feed on desire’s engorging, thrumming flow,
We feed on my terror of your tyrannical ice,
We feed on your adoration of my submission’s glow.
The Void’s Desire (Dyer-Bolique)
I draw on the intoxication and arousal, tempted by oblivion,
My darkened Self swells, merging with the possibilities of forever.
Your body, my temple of indulgence and brazen passion,
Our unity ordained by the baptism and blood born of purpose’s Nether.
My desires soon met, your body displayed upon an altar of forever,
Your submittance complete, content to accept the ferocity of my passion.
Our minds fixate upon lust’s savage form, absolute as souls entwine in disastrous nether,
My dominance of my lady’s entity nearing its most pure form of oblivion.
Your supple and damaged physique, receives my rewards of violent passion,
Our dance macabre endures, the desires of flesh spawned of evil and nether.
My martyrdom of your faux innocence continues its ascent to obtain oblivion.
I segmented your limbs once, a culling to serve only my rancid ardour forever.
We have begun the newest discovery of flesh.
We have endured the climax of twinning passion.
We have seen the void and revelled in its eternity.
Oblivion,
Forever,
Passion,
The Nether.
Lasciviousness (Valkyrie)
My body betrays me as I succumb to carnality,
Your touch renders all hope futile, oozing sensuality,
Driving into me, drenched with turgid salaciousness,
I surrender entirely to viciously intrusive licentiousness.
Tongue and hands accompany your lecherous symphony,
A masterpiece sordid with blood tarnished melody,
Ever meeting my lips through passion’s rhapsody,
Until I can no longer thwart the inevitable crescendo’s entropy.
I am your Venus de Milo, sculpted living art,
Prize possession to own and survey,
But my mind remains stealthy, not so my heart,
As its shadow still wishes to obey.
As we lay naked, imbibing stale residue,
I make my plea to his ear,
Prosthetics to give further loving to you,
My hand continues to flatter his gear.
Scene Two: FrankenKyrie
Galvanization (Dyer-bolique)
‘Subjugation of your body and soul,
Welcomed with gracious heart, at the hands of my carnal desire.
Your will dully accepted in delight, with gratitude’s regard, and absence of mind.
New limbs I shall impart, via force of nature, and calculated dementia,
You shall be articulated this night.
‘Oh, a missing right leg, left as stigmatized stump, grinning with keloid’s mirth,
Soon repaired by swift scalpel stroke, and mechanics of a Winchester’s girth.
What’s that you say? A missing arm, once severed at my behest.
Yes, it was discarded,
In the larder breaded and barded.
I ate it with feverish pickled herring and beer!
Have no fear, the doctor is here!
‘As night approaches, and lightening encroaches, you will be made kind of whole tonight.
So, sit back, enjoy it!
Don’t plead or attempt to spoil it,
This won’t sting a bit.
Your scars were ridden,
Your body to do as bidden.
As the moon hides its light,
Galvanization is coming,
Victor, I am becoming,
As the electric storm wields its might!’
Valkyrie Unbound (Valkyrie)
Flow of morphia abates, and the unbound does stand,
First time for a stranger, born callously to a new land.
Before the mirror I stretch, and absorb my new form,
A creature so profound that the vultures do swarm.
Sabbatical taken, but a new course this does warrant,
Reluctantly I scribe tales of immediate resignation,
Further surrendering your bleak will abhorrent,
A smug smirk and you post without hesitation.
Broken, monstrous psyche, driven to decisions naïve,
Broken, monstrous body, reflecting my spirit’s frayed weave.
Flow of morphia abates, and I take my clumsy stride,
Each stumble, forfeiture. Each fall, you defeat me,
My only Shangri-La: In your shadow I hide.
Perseverance, a necessity.
Broken, monstrous psyche, driven to the next liquidation,
Broken, monstrous body, reflecting new skill of extermination.
Your possession,
Your creature,
Your plaything,
Your weapon.
Creature and Flame (Dyer-Bolique)
Destruction and Rebirth, a song rendering Death’s domineering canter still.
Eternity that once was my arena, crumbles in the wake of unsanctified design.
Abjections within purgatory fail on the majesty of my work’s symphony and skill.
Terrified, the cries of mortality that diminish against my ascending crescendo divine.
Humbled shall be the hosts of heaven, and the dregs the of lowly hells by your will!
Beauty is now in the guise of your hybrid body, shaped on purity of flesh and machination.
Elation of your humanoid limbs, amalgamated rifle as both crutch and replacement leg.
Cleaved arm now restored to glory; its whispered venom shall dispense my unholy creation.
Omnipotence resides within your cry, silently calling to be allowed to feed, pity shall beg.
Mercy shall not cast its dice, justice will not intercede, non-spared our indignation.
Integrity destroyed against the fervour of your Urumi appendage.
Neither innocence nor temperance safe from my degradation.
‘Go now child, dispatch my FLAME!’
Legacy’s Lash (Valkyrie)
Amid life’s errant metamorphosis, I extend my lash,
Practising the bladed whip’s gait, I distend my lash.
You watch, titivated, and stirred, by your warrior,
Wedged stance and motivated, you commend my lash.
Behind my bright eyes I plot your gruesome downfall,
All you witness is an artist’s kata, as I tend my lash.
Distracting you, my primary task, misdirected magician,
My intentions impervious, as I comprehend my lash.
Fidelity offered and devotion bequeathed, I ascend,
Depending on you as you fend for me, I transcend my lash.
Petrarchan Parade (Dyer-Bolique)
Your transformation astonishes before my eyes,
For fealty’s hand given, and now dotingly accepted,
I cannot conceive that I may truly ever regret it.
For how could I know that you are plotting my demise?
With sleight of hand, conniving glances, a rivalry soon reprised.
Such are things, cast as fog against sun, easily forgotten,
I have a gift for thee, my love once misbegotten.
A carnival of captured souls, ready for their demise!
For they once resided amongst the hollows of our domain,
Dishevelled and imploring our consideration and charity,
I parade them now, in front of you, waiting as lambs to be slain.
Raise up your armoured and loaded leg, dispatch with impunity’s bane,
Dispense your ammunition, present your decimation, destroy society.
Become My Phoenix, imbued with the shared wickedness profane!
Scene Three: Dead Alive
Ode to the Living Dead (Valkyrie Kerry)
‘Dyer-Bolique, as dire as you are,
Cursed streets offer something far worse,
Vacant minds, absorbing smoked plants and wine,
Menacing, intolerant curse.’
You heed my meaning, agree with my terms,
Prepare me to fight, in the bleakest night,
Load my limb’s weapon, to crush the dirt worms,
Lash and Winchester to take flight.
To town we travel, after dark rabble,
Dissident ills, unified mind,
Packs travel shady, lonely back allies,
We circle prey, stalking behind.
Once entrenched in their hole with no way out,
The undead-alive wrestle and shout,
No one comes near, caught in their fear,
Offering us a safe route.
‘Dyer-Bolique, as dire as you are,
Put the fear of hell in these stiffs,
Vacant souls we must cleanse in fire,
Before they have time to put out their spliffs.’
Putrid Pantomime (Dyer-Bolique)
‘Come one! Come all! Speak to me of other things!
Within this alley, kindly don’t dilly dalley, see what Dyer-Bolique Brings!
Notice my coat, observe my hat, pondering on my offerings.
Within my whim, step on in, attend my theatre frightening!’
I turn to my torturous dove, ‘Dispense your love, fools are gathering!
The living undead, through plenty of dread, wondering at my blatherings.
In awe they are, in stupor they seem, rapt in my entertainment and ramblings.
Easily grifted, my introduction gifted, as ring master and captivating King!
Dispatch my will, don’t spare any thrill, make the carnage dazzling!
For in my eye, I shall spy, the demise of the zombified younglings.
Please don’t hurry, I shall enjoy them scurry as searing whips rends limb and sings.
I shall watch, form vantage aloft, a fire escape and savour savagery’s sting!’
Carnival of Ghouls (Valkyrie)
Perplexed by the spectacle frightening,
The dreary masses experience enlightening,
Punishment for lives spent crying, self- entitling,
I step forth from the shadows with sharp senses heightening.
‘Roll up, roll up,’ my carnivalesque display to appease,
Your dreadful need for expressionistic debauchery,
Moonlit shimmers on leg’s rifle’s savagery,
Cowering minions losing their bravery.
‘Come see the man-made, human spectacle,
Form of woman fused with machine so delectable,’
With triumph in gait, so as not to displease,
I raise my leg to the art, so collectible.
Huddling in, panic awry,
My errant gaze catches up with your black, refined eye.
One move swift, the first round released,
A handful of ghouls join the deceased.
Greying concrete painted with crimson fuel,
Forces mice to run from the hawk,
Showtime for my body’s renewal,
My prey I start to stalk.
Lash of whip strikes,
Twitching bodies fall,
As if recently interred.
Lash of whip strikes,
Tearing flesh from the ghouls,
And breaking up the putrid herd.
Culling rife, for you to see,
Another blazing round,
Projectiles and whip,
Rocket from me,
Foxes to the hound.
Inhuman humanity,
Pouring debris,
Intestines and blood hand in hand.
Inhuman humanity,
Little is left of me,
As my destiny is carved in the sand.
Marauding Macabre (Dyer-Bolique)
The song rings out, a sweet melody of violence laced with the unforgiving butchery.
Steel whistling throughout out the rank alleyway air, shots matching the butchery.
Your strikes pure, my sight obscured, as crimson smog clouds the atmosphere.
For I, the audience of one, applaud the spectacle macabre, revelling in butchery.
As scene and curtain fall, my mind grows complacent at episodic monotony.
I desire a new journey, a fresh course, avant-garde introducing butchery.
Remembrance of days past, seared ever in mind’s eye, as branded upon living skin.
Of a frenzied scream, your demented laugh, lost limbs, once welcoming my butchery.
Time is fleeting as reality rebounds; some have escaped the purposeful culling.
With claw of hand and tearing human dentition, I complete the marauding butchery.
An Ominous Observation (Valkyrie)
Wild beast, rampant and voracious,
I observe as you storm through the debris.
Feasting with fang and claw,
Identifying a fatalistic flaw,
A plan hatches for this bird to be set free.
Time imperative, trust regained,
For the strategy to be realised,
I hide the tears for I know with certainty,
That a sorrowful consequence is our mutual demise.
Sleight of hand required,
Horror movies must inspire,
Brainstorming the tropes,
Mind filled with hopes,
For success to duly transpire.
Inspiration calls, in night’s interim,
To sew together the colourful dead,
Stacked into the van,
Another ghastly plan,
A mural spread over the forest’s dirt bed.
Compulsion of Flesh, Enslavement of Desire (Dyer-Bolique)
Night had wrought bloody adventure,
Indulged on enduring sight,
Tangible desires satiated,
Intangible impulses,
Created.
Additional thought was needed to sate lechery’s rising tides,
A maelstrom’s hand, coldly clenches me,
Accompanied by the Vortices of want,
An inadequate nourishment vexes,
Its promise of unfulfillment,
Compounds the need.
What is happening?
When shall it feed?
How to be free?
Lascivious offerings shall soon scream their benefaction,
Delight in form, sweet in taste, the ardour attractive,
New afflictions of flesh ignited,
Your sweet body duly invited,
Subservient to my will,
You accept my flesh.
No remorse in taste,
Our bodies peaking,
Climax reunited.
Scene Four: Slasher Slayings
A Notion That Slays (Valkyrie Kerry)
A climax permeated with crimson cognizance,
Welted marks from your teeth exquisitely endured,
Our bodies one, sordid notions of pain abound.
My head rests on you in the aftermath,
Romantic notions of the macabre dominate discourse,
Suggestions of a well-trodden path.
‘Let us consummate our desires on vacation,
By the lake sits an unofficial campsite,
The lecherous deceitfully attend, sexual elation,
And drinking their spirits to hell in the night.’
I run my hands over bare flesh, as your lips kiss me;
Cheek, throat, face and head.
My words cease in your amorous stifle,
And then I am passionately spread.
As your passion abates,
My thoughts I do relate,
On fuelling your brutal, destructive guile.
‘Techniques are known to be vast,
A plethora of tools used to smite,
Although the methods do not last,
There are plenty more victims in sight.’
Portentous Pickings (Dyer-Bolique)
Eventide’s contrast to the world of day inevitable,
A setting as stereotypical as winter’s baneful winds.
Woodlands masking the truest menace of death perpetual.
Serenity of the unmasked wild, forestry hiding the eventual.
The current flock, born for the sole purpose of our slaughter.
An abundance of fare; boyfriend, girlfriend, son and daughter.
Enquiries trouble, a conundrum of sinister delight.
Who shall it be? And how will they depart tonight?
Behind door number one, the typical frolicking pair.
Out for a lake born tryst, in the lake not even a care.
Shall we stealthily accost them as they rise from the depths.
Harpoons to share, between youth’s beating breasts.
Behold, behind door number two, just one cabin down.
Within its sweet depths, the lonely lady, and the camp clown.
A method of disposal begs further scrutiny and greater examination.
Perhaps ensnare and gradually introduce lurid exsanguination.
But these are all frivolities to yourself and, the exhilarated me.
For what truly electrifies, is behind the colourful door number three.
The prim; the proper, self-assured, strong, independent, and astute.
If this were a script? That would be the potential survivor!
How ordinary and simplistically cute!
Veil of night is calling that individual’s name, as Hollywood is so far away.
For reality has arrived in the shape of human suit wearing wolves today.
I recommend securing a handshake, draw in their confidence, make it swell.
And when they are not looking, decapitate with shovel, disembowel, and beat with a trowel.
Cirque de la Lune (Valkyrie)
Dyer-Bolique, your humour astounds me,
Words so bold and yet painfully dry,
Though I am not so deceived,
But I am intrigued,
And longing to make that clown cry.
We wait beneath the canopy of the trees,
Morose, hideously masked, noxious.
We wait for the inevitable, mismatched battle,
As the clown’s date rejects her potential mate.
Dyer-Bolique, diabolical in his deviant planning,
Meticulous in his over-abundance of supplies,
Has woken the sleeping dragon.
Bear trap and barbed wire, pulleys abound,
Mechanically minded he guides, ever attentive,
Always paying note to their troubled discourse’s climax.
Prim and proper leaves first, nose high in the air,
Disgusted by her blind date’s plain appearance,
She strides furiously into the trees.
Silent bait, for the clown will eventually follow,
Silent, but must be forever silenced,
The bear trap snaps…
Silence breaks into a raucous, short-lived scream,
Silence endures as my lover’s blade steals her head,
Send in the clowns, he comes, unable to accept reality.
Phone’s light guiding, he sees her, behind a stump,
Her head stands tall on a branch, summoning the fool,
Hurriedly he runs, trips, wire tightens about his ankle.
There the pendulum swings, hanging inverted,
Shocked as I approach, such a sight for sore eyes,
Bionic woman, he pleads for assistance, cries for help.
I push his form as it hangs by one leg, it swings again,
Implores and fights, I tilt my head nonchalantly,
Thrilled, impassive, detached, I flay with lash.
Cleaves clothes from flesh, and flesh from bone,
Another swift movement gnaws another welt,
As my Urumi rises for a third strike,
Dyer-Bolique grabs and clasps my wrist tight.
Into my hand the hilt is placed, machete ready, sharp,
Taking a step back, and drawing my strength,
And drive the blade down vertically.
One half of the clown slithers down,
Better a quick death by blade,
Or harpoon, shovel, or garden spade,
Than neglectfully left to drown.
Propelled (Dyer-Bolique)
Ignorance ever carelessly embraced,
Always in bare reckless abandonment.
It shall find its truest reward,
As shroud of night blackens the lake.
A whimsical pair condemned on pre-marital frivolities,
My choice, my solemn judgement.
The boardwalk, my red carpet,
Transporting me to their mistake.
A powerboat my chariot,
Begging my destructive punishment.
A turn of key roars my carriage to life,
Soon churning darkened liquid for its own sake.
Rolling waves disguise my approach,
But soon I see their eyes’ astonishment.
A small cry and jutting bump,
Ending in red tide’s wake.
The Final Girl (Valkyrie)
Ultimate survivor in wait,
Her life force comes from deep within,
Triggered when threatened, hearing cries,
She develops a thicker skin.
Ultimate survivor in wait,
Entombed in cabin, observing,
Her quick brain constantly working,
Never taking the offered bait,
Innocence, a repellent trait,
Detached from her peers without sin,
Counting the deaths as they roll in,
Standing strong, everyone dies,
Espying Dyer-Bolique’s lies,
And plotting to save her own skin.
Her life force comes from deepest fate,
To suffer whatever we bring,
But I am skilled at surviving,
Pitied for my mechanic gate,
She assumes he forced me to date,
Night blinded from my bleak killing,
She offers some kind assisting,
To save me from master of flies,
A master I cannot despise,
She follows my painful limping.
Triggered when threatened by night’s fate,
I suggest until dawn, hiding,
She acquiesces, abiding,
Breathing heavy, fear, I relate,
Trusting me, a trait too innate,
Closing her eyes, quick slumbering,
Resting her head, now lumbering,
In the garden shed we disguise,
I carefully plan her demise,
Secateurs ready for cleaving.
Ultimate survivor in wait,
I develop a thicker skin,
A strange noise draws her from hiding,
Alone, confused, mind in a state,
She marches heedlessly to fate,
Behind her I stride, lumbering,
Secateurs assist bleak killing,
From back of neck comes the surprise,
Three poor clips, and Final Girl dies,
Painful demise, encumbering.
Ardeat (Dyer-Bolique)
Fuelled,
Bodies supplied,
Hade’s flame salutes,
Rising applause of deaths tithe,
Burning.
Bodies,
Consumed flesh
Fodder for our blaze,
Feeding the ravenous inferno,
Consumed.
Silent,
My offering,
Departed from this world,
Conflagrations feast gratefully given
Devoured.
The Harbinger (Valkyrie Kerry)
Watching,
Harbinger drinks,
Muttering of murder,
Menacing ingenuity,
Witness.
Watching,
The old drunk waits,
Preparing to confess,
Speaking of our dark transgressions,
Danger.
Clearing,
Dyer-Bolique,
Collects the dead bodies,
Remains for forest fire’s hearth,
Careful.
Hiding,
Prophet of doom,
Gathering his tales,
Testimony to be laid bare,
Naked.
Watching,
Harbinger drinks,
Woeful words of their doom,
Fire lights high, smoke in the sky,
Danger.
Watching,
I see him lurk,
Warn you beloved man,
Together we hatch a new plan,
Careful.
Clearing,
You speak aloud,
Garner his attention,
Draw his fears and watch the panic,
Watching.
Waiting,
Wire remains,
Easily cut, prepared,
Barbed wire stretched in hand, I sneak,
Behind.
Behind,
Wire round neck,
He struggles and cries out,
Slashing and tightening his throat,
Choking.
Bleeding,
Gurgling gore,
Spilling to the wood’s floor,
A new ember for the pyre,
Burning.
Infernum (Dyer-Bolique)
Added,
Grotesque herald,
His invading entity,
Trespassed on my vocation,
Burning.
Dancing,
Flames amber,
Joy at donations,
Charity in bodily form,
Blazing.
Blazing,
Skin crackling,
Fingers as candelabra,
Putrid flesh-soaked alcohol,
Fitting.
Scene Five: Lycanthrope for a Dream
L’art Cullinaire (Valkyrie Kerry)
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served,
Romanticised date, I remember you,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
‘What is this sweet meat?’ More than I deserved,
Passions rekindled, guilt for doubting you,
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served.
Evil smirk spreads, ‘Your arm I had preserved!’
Guilt abates, once again your colours true,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
‘Raising two wolves, their hunger I observed,
And fed them meat cutlets as one must do,’
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served.
I hide my horror, submission subserved,
Taking each mouthful, I carefully chew,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
My resolve steady, plan in place deserved,
‘Werewolves made great horror beasts too, that slew!’
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
Carnivorous Carnival (Dyer-Bolique)
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair,
‘You remember your place, my hold ever renewed!
For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
You bask on pleasantries, humouring my air,
Callously agreeable, contented, and shrewd,
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair.
As doe eyes adore, awaiting my approval’s care,
‘A pleasant idea,’ a mock and impugn,
‘For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
‘My canines are trained, versed in savagery’s prayer,
But fear not my heart, you they will not consume!’
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair.
You dance and connive, I see you in my vacant stare,
Within my gaze, darkly dreaming visions accrue,
‘For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
I have ensnared you once, for I am the fox to your hare,
‘Tonight, we hunt, for flesh’s atonement is due!’
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair,
‘For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
Valkyrie’s Ballade (Valkyrie)
‘Master, your distrust is misplaced,
For you are the whole world to me,
Turning teacher to your student,
A mind shrewd and gallant to see.
Safe with you I lay, submissive,
Your feisty weapon, thanks to thee.’
My plan sadly remains, our end,
But you are the whole world to me.
‘Now to these wolves, permit my speech,
At midnight bars cease to serve, see?
Hairy dregs wander marauding,
Waiting for the wolves to roam free.
Drunks howl at the moon, unhindered,
Set their undeserving soul’s free.’
Soon we fall sadly together,
But you are the whole world to me.
‘Empty sheds sit behind the bar,
Deprived wolves in the pig pit free,
A drunk man is easily led,
Prospecting a woman like me.
Sensual and bizarre to see,
Falling for a woman like me.’
I have ordered our doom’s sweet drug.
But you are the whole world to me.
Escaping to capture wolf’s bane,
Pain of the nightmare soon to come,
Your insanity spirals free,
But you are the whole world to me.
The Pit and Long Boar (Dyer-Bolique)
Our plan, born of true heinous,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Yet tonight they feast on standing pig,
Such pleasant fare to absorb.
Within a tavern’s hospitality,
Hogs adore to imbibe,
Pre-marinated and duly prepped,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Ambiance imperative to set the mood,
A ramshackle hovel dutifully disguised,
A table set with finery, nothing crude,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Docile and ready they await their company,
Savouring the smell of the meal to arrive,
For on temptation’s arm, he will be led,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Master and pet, we must be prepared,
The hour draws sundry and nigh,
Soon the punters will traverse a yonder,
Day’s turmoil and beverage deprived.
Man’s best friend finds true gallery,
In this repurposed livery, improvised,
As such we wait, for customers true fate,
And as always…
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
GIGANtic Hog Ensnared (Valkyrie)
Staggering from the roadhouse, howling liquor at the moon,
Strategically well-dressed, I smile at the great goon.
Weeknight when most have more sense, sly words distract. Promises,
Soft lullaby on the breeze, offering more later on,
Holding his gaze as they leave, punters go home, skirmishes.
His beard ruffles to his chest, as dirty claws scratch at head,
And we are alone tonight, under moonlight’s gleam, red.
Taking his giant, rough paw, I lead him to the old farm,
Assenting ego follows, for what woman can do harm?
Through mire we slowly trudge, we cannot arrive too soon,
Staggering from the roadhouse, howling liquor at the moon.
His beard ruffles to his chest, as dirty claws scratch at head,
Unbalanced but desperate, to follow a strange being,
Desirous though most flaccid, unlikely worthy in bed.
Inside barn doors my world resides, hungry wolves baying for blood,
Staggering in the farmhouse, howling wolves baying for blood.
Likened to Lycan (Dyer-Bolique)
Abundance of flesh, teetering on a stuporous step,
Carried dutifully, and on a drunkard’s resolve,
Resigning himself, a true wretch of the unkept,
Your body not to be touched or involved!
Sacrificial, our desirous fool will endure my scorn,
I glare on, anticipating my friends to intercept,
Realisation dawns, as his forearm is torn,
Tattered flesh screaming with crimson effect!
Restless meat, dragged to this vestibule of violence’s floor,
Fangs dispense their intended and evolutionary design,
Shielding his face, with haemorrhaging appendage, is this disgusting boar,
His pathetic squawking cut short and rendered benign!
The offering’s complexion changing, as mandible is ripped from head,
I match his bleating, as I find my voice enduring a lycanthropic illusion,
A cry soon answered, as you, my Valkyrie advance, howling with a Banshee’s dread,
Observing the feast, content in our current spree, gracious of our evolution!
Her eyes hypnotic,
My own absorbing a truth,
Future dystopic.
Scene Six: Finale Fatale
Death’s Nuptials (Valkyrie)
Exhausted, fatigued, and ready to die,
Penchants come at cost, like unholy love,
My plan’s fruition accompanies sigh,
Sad melancholy weighted from above,
Time plunders forward, death’s marriage is nigh,
Mind altering toxins hidden in my glove.
Drugs and suggestions, secret in the glove,
Broken heart to part, parting us to die,
Finality grim, below and above,
‘There is no other way,’ forlorn I sigh,
Imprisoned monster to the man I love,
I try to reason a way, it is nigh.
Death’s reaper awaits, our wedding is nigh,
I remove noxious potions from my glove,
Tears rolling, I cannot bear watch him die,
He who rules with iron fist high above,
‘Body broken as my mind,’ I do sigh,
Entangled in this insanity, love.
I sought his dark love, he sought my dark love,
From that moment impending death was nigh,
But fate forced my hand, wielding spiteful glove,
Our tapestry sewn, so many did die,
And if you believe, they went up above,
Underworld awaits, Anubis’ deep sigh.
Original plan gone awry, I sigh,
Take my own life after taking my love,
I choose a sicker route where we both die,
Mix modification, deep in my glove,
Instigating a high, the end is nigh,
But we shall be soaring high up above.
Challenging minds refined from the above,
Together we fly, free spirits, I sigh,
Bonded by an immutable, deep love,
I groom myself for him, the moment nigh,
Sliding a new mix deep within my glove,
His stash compote, my preparation, die.
Sweet dining to die, drops pour from above,
Cannibalised love, my sorrowful sigh,
Imminently nigh, it pours from my glove.
Unceremonious Consumption (Dyer-Bolique)
Grace escapes my life this burgeoning night.
Drugs coax me to door of the dying.
I care little of this conclusive plight.
Our souls are annexed, mortality crying.
Resistance of desire not within our might.
A bitten tongue commences shared dining.
Dreamlike wraiths, absorbed in the dining.
Looking, feasting, blackened blood of night.
Joyous in jilt, imbibing the crying.
Arousal strikes hard, ignorance of plight.
Rapturous, we consummate the dying.
Bodies as one, exuding lust’s might.
Dominance, retreats against passion’s might.
Ocular delight, next course of dining.
Penetrative elation cries this night.
Pain lost, I sup on her blood, and crying.
We know how this ends, enduring the plight.
Union continues hence, no heed on dying.
Death strikes his toll, in tune to the dying.
His solemn bell rings, purposive in might.
Skin, swift the entrée of fervours dining.
Heavenly flesh, savoury gift of the night.
Blissful in tears, garnished of the crying.
Our hands peeling further, aching nails plight.
Faux limbs discarded, aide-memoir of plight.
Inedible in passions pure dying.
I devour her essence this very night,
My skinned nose, entremets of her dining.
She shears off my face, fangs working might.
Sweet, mutual pain, dressed by the crying.
Pain flows, red tears, blending the crying,
Hungers soft kiss, preceding loves last plight,
Time draws its veil, our void of the dying,
Vastness of void, advances against our might,
Bodies flayed, craven within our dining,
Luxuriously devoured our night.
This night, we are one in the crying,
The dying flies out, carriage of the plight,
Yielding of might, tenacious in the dining.
Our bodies consume one another,
Our souls consume one another,
Until nothing remains but our story’s offal.
Encore
Carnage’s Conclusion
Reports are coming in, yarns of a tale most obscene,
Of romance pushed to edge of reason, ferociously extreme.
Authority’s reports state, ‘perplexing,’ of no true reflection,
A nightmarish bond driven by blood-lust supreme.
As filters and speculation devastate the nation,
Major crime units are vexed and sickened at the scene.
Love driven mad, a pair of souls forming a monstrous band,
A spree of death, flowered with gory mis-en-scene.
Caution is the story, of Dyer-Bolique’s glory,
And Valkyrie’s staging of theatrical, macabre themes.
Woe is their ending, victims’ families lamenting,
A plot in infamy, destined to never be redeemed.
The curtains close…
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