Sweeney Todd

sweeney-todd
“There’s a hole in the world
Like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
And its morals aren’t worth
what a pig could spit
And it goes by the name of London.”
His silver knives penetrate the vocal chords in guttural spasm, releasing the bloodstream of the unspoken.  The eyes wide with terror as the knife slices, killing all voice, releasing the flood of all voice, like a crack in the universe-
(There’s a hole in the world like a great black pit-)
Down, down, down all flesh goes, into the meat pit fiery furnace.  We dance and sing the gruesome song of the unmaking of the world, as the rats of London are well fed.  It matters not who dies and who dines, it matters not whose life will serve vengeance, for all is horror, all is stained with black grit, and the only vengeance taken on London is the *random end of all of it.*
(And the vermin of the world inhabit it-)
London’s soul is black but he could use a clean shave, with moonlit silver knives that penetrate past the soot to the bloodlife of lunacy-
(where one pure gem is found, but we shall not sing of it-)
Her mute throat slit to songs of lost love.  Who was She…a vagabond banshee who wandered Fleet street.  Did the blades of silver take her life or did they make her ghost bleed alive with the speech of accusation, as she lay entombed, beside her lover, with soot in her golden hair?
(Did the wedding cake cathedral of Fleet Street ring with bells at midnight, as St Paul’s sighs on the hill like a god in regal tomblike weariness?)
 There’s a hole in the world like a great black pit…
(And a golden voice in the midst of it)
The silverblades dig deep to find her
But all is vermin, love gone lunatic-
Her avenger is her murderer-
And he goes by the name of *London*
© Rachael Bulla 2007
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