5.1.14 Musings of Frankenstien

It was work even God had not perfected
Life is full of disease and disgust
The world is not perfect
I imagine the creation was equally as messy

Start with a vivisection
a still beating heart to rest in my hand
Needed to make sure it would function
So why not see it in action

Grave diggers had made the ground loose already
Stolen all the valuables
Or so they thought
Under the grime and wood
Decaying and bending under weight of nature
I could smell the bones
Over my sweat and the cow’s manure
A farmer’s daughter ripe for the picking
Hopefully the bones are not too frail

A frame complete it still would need wiring
It is too dry and frail
I know life will come to this
But will it creak and crack?
A few more parts
Some fresh new bodies
It will look ideal
It will feed off the life I have
Harvested for it

Strip the flesh, then debone like a fish
Muscles out of the way for now
Save the plump ones
Nice red juicy colour, still dripping
For now we need the strings of our puppet
The veins, solder them together
Slip one into the other
Run blood of a cow through to check for leaks

The construction is no different than that of furniture
It’s the collection that is more difficult
When all the graves are dug and animals hunted
Murder seemed viable, but not just
A brain could be compiled
The ferocity of a wolf
Strength of an ox
But no intelligence, no morality
No more time

I can hear him breathing
Whispering for life

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