Amadeus

Eldritch gasp comes ululating from his throat
Murky eyes perverted
Festering thoughts rotting in the boat
That is his tongue, sailing o'er that ghastly moat

Penitence slowly oozing, a clotting flood
No dam halts God's torment
Life lived vile darkens sinners' blood
Amadeus hemorrhages morose mud

The torment scourged his mind; he evaded thought
Emptying the river
Humanity deserted will rot
A grim below calls the broad vultures Hell brought

Puncturing, like needles, sewing in the rust
Sapping eyes of rancor
Dripping with an agony of lust
Gaia's calamitous words bring mind to dust

Keen putrefaction tastes his wailing spirit
Tribunal of penance
While the flame of darkness is relit
Amadeus soaks in egregious merit

The howling sensations in his depths are birthed
Cataclysmic shrieking
Strapped to the Devil's throne, wrought with mirth
Strain fades as execrable truth is unearthed

Caprizant pulse, lurching his body out toward
The wood axe and matches
Giddy with the blood of his Lord
He prowls on the black street, galumphing forward

Amadeus paces on the city street
Vessels of damnation
Scattering like fire, dreadful heat
Men are walking placidly in mind and feet

One man arches his back in lively passion
Embracing his dearest
Twitching and frothing, face turned ashen
Amadeus reels to quench that compassion

Propelled by rage, the axe embeds in the gent
Gore erupts from his mouth
Eyes eroded by sharp discernment
Flesh ravished by a tooth in Satan's current

A grin ebbs across his distant, darkened cheek
The woman squeals and faints
He eyes the grim axe, heretofore bleak
Heaving it from the verdant and sanguine creek

Ichor dripping, seducing Amadeus
He lifts it to his tongue
Savoring one absurd hiatus
Carving a trench named the River Salacious

Severed tongue, severed mind, hollow, hungry eyes
Indulging in this high
He sprints onward, to where coppice lies
The river bursts and spews, he can feel it rise

In this bedlam, he reaches for the matches
A forest holocaust
Inferno raging in rife batches
The flame of darkness is relit and latches

Blood in mind, in mouth and hand and axe, he goes
To cleave himself a throne
When work is done, this man stiffly slows
Resting, sitting while the river swiftly flows

Suddenly, as if his madness disappeared
His heart thuds one last time
In awe and shock, sickened arms are steered
To the axe, his rueful branch, claret and smeared

A gut-wrenching horror leaps from his stern maw
Cleaver fragments the crux
A maroon channel digs from his jaw
From his heart, the River Salacious shall draw

He smolders, in rotting his life for the throne
Dying in a passion
Of life, apt only to scent smoke blown
Amadeus, you burn, and you burn alone

C. Walker is a poet from Connecticut studying at Cornell University. He uses horror, philosophical, spiritual, absurdist, and Romantic themes in his writing. Some of his idols include Poe, Rumi, Yeats, Wordsworth, and Dylan Thomas. He enjoys making tea and listening to music in his free time. He has a website at cwalkerpoetry.com

Find more by C. Walker in the Author Index.