An Aesthetic Display

‘To share my thoughts would be deceitful,
When I may display the prowess clear,
Enrapture your beating heart, delightful,
A living image for you my dear.’

And with those words I chain his hand in mine,
Leading him into the depths of hell.
Wooden staircase descending into my pit,
A secret room where our desires may swell.

Beyond the basement’s simple hues we head,
Therein, bound, the limbless living corpse resides,
Adrenaline driven, pained yet present on a bed,
Drifting on death’s impending, ever flowing tides.

‘An offering to you, a gift from my cancerous heart,
I had sought an outlet for the spoils of war,
This spoil is a promise of more to come, a start,
Fear of his demise sickening beyond the limbs so sore.’

I wheel out my trolley, an array of the artist’s tools,
Colourful by suggestion, sharp and shining silver shades,
‘It is your time, the time of death for narcissistic fools,’
I state mockingly, hand reaches and passes the sharpened blades.

‘For you my kindred star,
My lost soul drifted so far,
Take off your mask, raise your head,
And show me who you truly are.’