Guardian, Carve Me Proper

Guardian cuts, cuts,
Whittling away on Savage Club.
The snap of the sap-stained knife
As the steady, burly hand
Motionfully chips structure.
The manly beat of animal gut drum:
A pleasing ritualism.

Savage Club hopes, hopes,
Through nightmare drumbeat.
Hopes that Guardian’s hand is skillful.
Hopes for artistry and legend.
Hopes for truth and purity.
Hopes for victory and glory.
Hopes as Guardian
Exposes barkless baldness
With savage-stained knife.
Savage Club hopes, hopes,
Through nightmare pain-beat,
Under Guardian’s shapeful reign.
Hopes until form fades,
And Guardian’s knife abruptly ceases,
Dulled and fatigued.

Savage Club,
Now Prideful Spear,
Yearns for screaming rivulets.
Guardian’s hand clutches Prideful Spear,
Longing for raging abominations.
Guardian strides with razor eyes,
To Antagonist’s blooded lair,
And enters,
Meaning death,
Bristling Prideful Spear.

Antagonist hisses bloody forked tongue in hostile maggot grimaces
Fear’s glistening transparency stings the nightful air as Prideful Spear’s thirst ignites.
Without a second they plunge hostile and defiant into heated battle.
Prideful Spear is drawn to Antagonist’s steady drumbeats in critical instinct.
Faster, faster they boom; Melding, sensing doom.
Full stop and starlit screech
Moonlight views a rushing river
And a noble leech.
Drinking, drinking his heart’s content