Honeymoon

Rolf Auer, 19 May 2015 c.e. aka A.D. Tu ~01:29

The most beautiful spider
Ive seen close up in Nature
is named the Golden Orb Weaver.
Second to this
Ive also seen close up in Nature
both the red and the gold hourglass
Black Widow spiders -hideously and extremely
painful and fatal.
O Azazeel
my deadly Azazeel -you, The Angel of Death -you are these finally
and much more fatally.
Shakespeare wrote
the gods are to men
as wanton boys
are to flies.
O Azazeel
you and now I
are to wanton mens deaths
as spiders finally and fatally
are to careless flies.
To his credit, the rapist
showed no fear when
we first appeared to him.
Kin I hep u? he inquired politely.
Yes, please we said together in unison, smiling
we want to fuck in your pooling blood
while you bleed to your death.
Then I alone spoke,
First, though, I assfuck you
as violently as possible
as you lay dying.
Pardon me? he said. Again,
to his credit, he reached for a weapon
but I was waiting for that.

I whipped my right hand

with its cleaver
out from behind my back and
chopped off his hand.
For the first time, he showed fear.
Azazeel and I both laughed merrily.
I hear you like raping defenseless
women, said Azazeel to the
unrepentant rapist.
In her grim, fiercely shining eyes,
relentlessly death rose,
a Sumerian tiger
slowly and surely
padding her final approach,
her golden eyes glowing thus
paralyzing her prey,
a moth transfixed to
a killing board.
The rapist turned to run,
but I tripped him. He
fell, trying to break his fall
with his remaining hand.
Azazeel splayed him
and I chopped off his other hand.
Very very sharp was my cleaver,
the hours I spent on it
carefully honing it with a whetstone,
its sticky form-fitting handle
wrapped with black friction tape,
my lovely Azazeels
unparalleled and unmatched beauty
reflected in its mirror-polished
heavy stainless steel blade as
with finality it arced
its first fleshly cutting kiss
sealing the beginning of the end
of a vain, useless and wasted life.
Holding her hand
I kissed her honey-pouting lips
a long sweet savouring kiss

while he moaned futilely

sitting up looking at
his stumps
furiously gushing blood,
his fear and pain
etched deep in the
blood-drenched
cracks in his face.
The golden orb
of the moon
hung low in the sweet
dark night sky,
starless it was and
madly throbbing with blood lust.