The Inhumanist

Prophet of abomination
Death's deliverance
for the masses lost
in their shadows
faceless at last

Beneath the foothills
Palo Verdes
Euripedes' country
A man
ancient loner
lives, caretaker of gore
in a land,
forsaken to hawks.
Day & night
he stalks
hungry for absence
for the sedge's rise
over tombstones & hearth smoke.

His only companion
a Double Axe
two blades of the tragic
held in his fist
onanism of steel
primed to smite
delighting in the purity
of violence.
Who sees him as he nears?
Doppelgangers crushed
by the wooden heft,
succubi raped
the shaft deep in flesh,
eyes shucked by the blade,
hollows speaking blood.

Not for vengeance
does he rupture
the weak ties
that blind us
to the grave's reality
but for mercy
murders
this pale reflection of grace.
Asserts the earth's
dark return
with every
weapon's swing,
each plunge
of his laughter
heralds a victory
for the waters
and the moon's
inhuman mask.