Blots

|Vial|

"A vial of blood," he crooned in tones

Softer than my goosebumps,

I realised, that my noble disguise

Was going down the dump.

He took me by the hand and showed

Many people of great name

Who each gave a vial of blood, and had

Centuries carved in fame.

A vial of blood, that's all one must

Offer, to mend the broken

He turned away, the Lord of Day

And that's when I had spoken.

I told him if glory came cheaper

It would surely be abused

A vial of blood he would get, but

The fountain I would choose.

And once I'd brought the drink, I sought

Complete and endless joys

A vial of blood, of glistening mud

Would be my final price.

A shake, a nod; and back I was

Snuggled in wordly calm

Only a painful cool stayed proof

Against my sweating palm.

I raised the knife, wet with my sweat; I had a surreal smile

A vial was all, to beat them all,

A cut would go a mile.

I made several slices, drip, drip

Scarlet embraced the glass,

I pocketed the key to eternity

And strode to break my fast.

Ah! What did I see? A hellish sea

Of flesh, burnt, sliced and slashed

Across the larder, bleeding harder

With each new searing gash.

My pain grew numb, and I succumbed

To my knees; trembling, weak

For I saw, the corpses were naught

But those of my family.

Oh why, oh why, oh what had I

Done to behold this woe?

Almost on cue, my sleeve soaked hue

As blood dripped, steady, slow.

And the vial's light blinded my heart

As fresh from the Lord's tavern

He appeared with a smirk so sharp

It cut my arm and burned.

"Rejoice! O warrior, you have aced

The test of vial and vice

Your feet shall grace, the highest place

Your head shall skim the skies.

From now, you're one of us, who turned

The last piece of earth down

So we could transcend this little realm

And reign on and on."

"Hell! What use is this fame to me

When I am in dearth of kin,

Take it away! Oh Lord of Day,

and heal my wretched skin."

"Alas, stranger, you knew the danger

of paying the vialful price

You took the the bait, and now it's late

For anything save rejoice."

With that he went, leaving me bent

In lament o'er my creed

The vial still warm, slipped from my palm

And I began to bleed.