Like A New Look of Horror
by Michael Doyle

We look back on yesterday's self,
Like a new look of horror from our shelf,
And as we turn from page to page
We find more foolishness than wisdom from a sage.

Memory is a monster as the building groans.
Six courses devoured, each on its own.
Until at last the host makes his appearance
And offers an apology in his greatest deference.

Two vampires enter a church post priest-icide,
As at least one wished it were deicide. 
Serving gods is an honor of it own display,
But in this pain the body passes its way.

Although the transition is the pain of dying, 
And the needs leave one's empty soul crying,
One must never lap up the blood of the dead,
For it will drag one down with the greatest dread.

Down into the depths of the lapdogs of Hell.
There in the pitiful abyss where the Devil dwells.
And from this position, one can never rise up,
This is the price paid from the sacrificial cup.

The vampire's blood inside laughs in its control,
A chuckle and a spark that teases at one's soul.
It is more than too late for any resistance.
The Vampire's joke laps with flames of persistence.

The restraint of the hunter becomes a new known art.
Where each part of life's symphony plays its part.
Everywhere looked, there is a new sense to favor,
The choices to be had lead to a new life to savor.

The master teaches the student the art of the kill,
Finding much humor where the student finds thrill.
There is amusement to be had in the ways of haste,
And that leads to problems of disposing of the waste.

The student feels agony wanting to find home,
But the master knows the student will now walk alone.
For once, one has turned into the bestial vampire impure
The disease had is one that is at best difficult to cure.

(c) October 6, 20225   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved