The following is from

The Azazeel Poems

aka
I know youre in love with Death
Three
Rolf Auer, 2 May 2015 c.e. aka A.D. Sa ~19:04
For R.P.
Im not okay
with rape.
Neither is my wife
Azazeel, The Angel of Death.
When I was mortal
and young
it was dinner
and a movie,
you know?
Whatever happened
to good old-fashioned dating
in the space of
a few short years?
What had I become, some
misguided Old School
moral relativist relic?
When I was mortal
I heard about
a case where
four young men
attacked and beat a
mentally challenged woman
and her husband.
They tied him up
and raped her to death
in front of him.
At that time
I was writing for
Amnesty International.
For the first time
I did not write to
ask for clemency for

the four young men, and

they were put to death.
I remember I was crying
when I made that decision
not to intervene. I had compromised
myself, by acting as judge, jury and
executioner. I stopped
writing for Amnesty International.
I didnt come
to terms with my
hypocrisy
until after
Azazeel and I
got married.
However, in our world
theres no Amnesty.
Now, she and I do a rape case
every so often
because the meat is so tender.
I guess that means
that food has the
final say in
moral decision-making:
Much depends on dinner.
Today was such a day.
The case was a sad one.
A confused young woman
was publicly humiliated by
apparently unrepentant
vicious and predatory young men
who effectively raped her.
They were not punished on Earth.
Overwhelmed by shame, she
killed herself.
Now, however, the young men were in
our domain.
We did our typical routine,
feeding them and setting them
free.

Then we ran them down,

toying with them
so as to drag out
their deaths.
We rendered them unconscious
and tied them up.
We arranged them so they could have
a good view of us and each other.
Then, Azazeel and I put on a show
for them, fucking
as we like to do
exactly the same as the big cats,
repeatedly, 100 times,
over the course of
the morning and early afternoon.
Wasnt that fun, dear? And no rape!
I spoke the only words we said
the entire time. She smiled at me,
then looked at the young men,
death rising in her eyes.
I dragged the first one,
the ringleader,
out in full view of
the others.
I did my standard move,
which meant that I
unsheathed my claws
and ripped his face off
so that he slowly bled to death,
blinded by his own blood.
Before he expired
I turned him over,
pulled down his pants
and as violently and
painfully as possible
fucked him up the ass
while he died.
Azazeel laughed and
clapped her hands gleefully.
I finished just as he expired

and went to fetch another.

Meanwhile, Azazeel used her claws
to slice open the chest of the
still-warm dead person
to get at her favourite
meat: the heart.
She cut it out
and bit into it
like one might bite
into a juicy red apple,
the hearts blood running down
her widely smiling mouth,
her teeth and her eyes
glinting redly in
the bright afternoon sun.
O Death, this day thou art
bloodily savage and hideously beautiful.
Im Old School no more, I guess.
Pity.