Yesterday's Ghastly Countenance
Slake my thirst, eternal wealth cleaved from me
By heathen Kings and arrogating Lords.
Sate my death-lust, that upon this hallowed
Night I might taste the blood of my rivals.
Quench my temper, douse it with severe and
Pitiless castigation all-absolute.
Satisfy my burning will with the reap
And harvest of those perfidious souls.
Fill my eyes with choking funeral smoke
And my ears with their horrifying screams.
What title once held in eminence is
Strewn to uncaring gusts which bellow with
Thick mirth in the deep, dark forest I have been
So courteously acquainted with as
Of late. And so I vend my essence to
Retribution’s piercing blade, and I
Meditate over my predestined ride
On Justice’s wretched and rasping wings,
Above the scowling moon, between the grave
Stars and about the cosmoses so vast
And boundless, worlds might hide with great comfort.
By the hearts of my enemies I vow
To never return to this foul, accursèd place.