In the kitchen
With a screaming triple amputee...
Its completion depends solely
On my needs...
Are my way of saying... "Thank you
Just for being you."
Its fear tastes better than its limbs.
I draw from the slowly dying damned
Monsters live behind my eyes;
I let them out and people die.
And all the grave
That come for their piece of meat?
I give them dead things..
The wretched living are mine alone
Fright mounts with
the body count
To which anthropomancy predicts a decline
In all of God's creation,
Can there be a lifestyle that's better than
I mark my territory
With their blood and excritement
I can find my way in the dark;
fulfilment is habitually necromanic
And anal abusive..
Seen through the eyes of a mortician
They've "caught" me, as they call
My teeth and my semen have betrayed me..
Tests to gauge my rationale,
The likes of which these feeble minds
My responses to which inspire fear...
From my lizard side,
The amoral alien
"These aren't butterflies,
I see a face I'd like to burn."
Of the authorities with lies,
Alability to charm and be me,
Or whoever they want;
I've known all minds by divine right.