Look at my aging hands,
See how old and wrinkled,
How decrepit they are becoming.
The sins of my family run deep.
Greed and power have cursed
The blood that flows in me.
I think I shall bathe tonight.
I can see what I am destined for.
I am death’s rotting whore.
The maggots will burrow in me,
Eating my flesh like carrion.
It is inevitable, I too shall die
Just as my kin before me.
Have the servants prepare my bath.
Last night I fucked another man,
Let him put himself inside me,
He ravaged my body like a storm.
They all want me, long for me;
They all want to fuck me
For my station, never for my beauty.
Tonight I shall bathe with virgins.
My fading beauty is haunting me,
It consumes my every thought.
I need virgins, more and more virgins,
I need to draw my bath deep
So that my sinful, shameful body
Can be restored to its once rosy hue.
I shall bathe in many beautiful virgins.
I shall be covered, soaked in their blood.
I shall bathe, my tub stained crimson red,
Filled with the life of countless virgins.
Tonight I shall bathe in the blood
For the blood is the life, my life.
Men shall know me and want me.
They shall desire me and fear me.
They shall fuck me and ejaculate
On my blood-soaked skin
And I shall own them all
With my restored, youthful beauty.
Men shall hear my name,
They shall quiver at its sound.
Their wives shall fear my name,
They shall turn green with envy
At the one who owns their men.
Their virginal daughters shall not sleep
In their beds at night, not a wink,
For they shall know that danger lurks,
That their lives are forfeit,
That their blood will one day
Fill the porcelain tubs
Of their countess
Erzsébet.
See how old and wrinkled,
How decrepit they are becoming.
The sins of my family run deep.
Greed and power have cursed
The blood that flows in me.
I think I shall bathe tonight.
I can see what I am destined for.
I am death’s rotting whore.
The maggots will burrow in me,
Eating my flesh like carrion.
It is inevitable, I too shall die
Just as my kin before me.
Have the servants prepare my bath.
Last night I fucked another man,
Let him put himself inside me,
He ravaged my body like a storm.
They all want me, long for me;
They all want to fuck me
For my station, never for my beauty.
Tonight I shall bathe with virgins.
My fading beauty is haunting me,
It consumes my every thought.
I need virgins, more and more virgins,
I need to draw my bath deep
So that my sinful, shameful body
Can be restored to its once rosy hue.
I shall bathe in many beautiful virgins.
I shall be covered, soaked in their blood.
I shall bathe, my tub stained crimson red,
Filled with the life of countless virgins.
Tonight I shall bathe in the blood
For the blood is the life, my life.
Men shall know me and want me.
They shall desire me and fear me.
They shall fuck me and ejaculate
On my blood-soaked skin
And I shall own them all
With my restored, youthful beauty.
Men shall hear my name,
They shall quiver at its sound.
Their wives shall fear my name,
They shall turn green with envy
At the one who owns their men.
Their virginal daughters shall not sleep
In their beds at night, not a wink,
For they shall know that danger lurks,
That their lives are forfeit,
That their blood will one day
Fill the porcelain tubs
Of their countess
Erzsébet.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved. Written circa 2010.
Originally published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 2, 2025.
Originally published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 2, 2025.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2025 16:26
- Comment from author about the poem: For Throwback Thursday. Written in 2010, after watching The Countess with Julie Delpy. This was when I began leaning hard into the grotesque. I wanted to reimagine Erzsébet Báthory — not just as the “Blood Countess” of legend, haunted by vanity and age — but as a figure shadowed by history, where power and rumor blur. She remains villain here, yet with the faintest trace of humanity bleeding through.
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: rebellion_in_sanity
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Comments3
A most interesting quality where magic by association is assumed in that blood of youth will restore youth in the bather. Dracula like in a sense where blood of the victim maintains life in the undead. Sex associated with life also becomes a fixation. A dark piece of history and myth rolled into one. A write that fits the month that we are in with Halloween coming around the corner. Most graphic in its imagery it hangs heavy on the reader's mind.
Soren, this is such a thoughtful read. You drew out the Dracula parallels, the fixation of blood and sex, and the way myth lingers heavy on Erzébet’s name. Grateful for your time and analysis, my friend. 🩸🕯️👁️⚰️
Most welcome Tristan
Popeye is light-hearted. He says she's only having a bad hair day! lol.
Orchi, my hammy hipster (notice I did not say hamster) friend, you always know how to...ahem...turn the lights on! Popeye calling it a “bad hair day” is hilarious...he has a ton of course...where? Don't answer that! Thanks again, my friend! 🩸🕯️👁️⚰️
First of all- fabulous!
The intensity reminded of D. H. Lawrence. The themes are different but the kind of intensity to have something, yet, can't grasp.
My dear friend, thank you for this. To be compared to Lawrence for intensity is humbling. You caught it...the ache to have, the failure to hold...that’s Erzébet’s curse. 🩸🕯️👁️⚰️
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