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Boy Harsher “Modulations”

 

 

 

 

I am dreadfully sorry about the hot bloody mess
Keep meaning to clean up but feel obliged to confess
You see, rather partial am I to a hearty bloodbath
May not look like the type
but the Grey-Chapel Path supplies signposts to every last laugh
Mine not theirs
As they’ll be far too busy dying to notify

 

Not to say there won’t be screams
but while they may well be sincere
Alas,
they shall fall on the very deafest of ears
Like the very first snowflakes to fall
or an infant child’s crocodile tears
Here today and long gone by tomorrow
Each mercy plea excreted provides the sweetest sheet music for my upcoming symphony of sorrow

 

It’s a work still in progress
As I am all about the process
Encore will be my bone saw
And it has been known to make some reasonably forceful requests
Knows precisely how to earn its ovation
A whole damn curriculum of bad education
And a permanent vacation for those who refuse to peruse my legislation
For your consideration
Here’s a taste of what is still to come
And just so we’re on the same page here
It’s not looking to do any favors

 

– hacking through osseous matter – plundering – spattering – thundering freight train – of unthinkable pain – stopping …

 

… only to survey – nothing quiet about its contemplation – nothing charitable about this particular donation – trimming the rind – heading back to the grind – with a razor blade smile – which twitches to defile – as it fits the profile – poking fun at the flesh – stroking not to caress – no less than decisive in each jagged motion – taking the weight out of living – making light work of this volley of commotion – an enfilade of alloy artillery very much armed to disarm – and not a singular slither of charm – malignant like a blacklisted tumor – a diamond to wear to the very last stare – one bereft of aqueous humor – dead on arrival but still paying the price through hypodermic refusal to quit – the untimely betrayal of man-made tapestry – a devastating flaw in design – and this bone saw of mine – will soon put that right

 

I just thought
I should be comforting my patient, shouldn’t I?
Isn’t that what we do for the very soon-to-be departed?
Alas, the time has now come to set free my baby bird
And I have to come clean
Twill be a bittersweet affair
For I have grown rather attached to my latest pet project
and have greatly enjoyed the short time we spent together

 

I would like to make a couple of assurances
Before I give this cold steel of mine one cruel final twist
My patient shall no longer be governed by contagion
Neither will they be so smothered by society’s distasteful persuasion
Just a hunk of dead mutton
And I hold up both hands to being something of a glutton
for punishing playtime swiftly followed by cremation

 

Then it’s straight back to the chop shop for the hack, whack and chop
The Death Technician’s work is seldom any less than non-stop
No rest for the wicked in this sleepless chapel
Now please be a good little assistant

And pass me the goddamn scalpel