To Die For-Impaled
A liturgist in the realm of filth and gore
Augean bard of ?sculapian deviance
Fables I＇ve made, sick stories I＇ve
parlayed
For the rapt attention of my heinous
Despised rottrephile, the object of my
infection
A gore hound obsessed with the extreme
and obscene
In manic obesciance, I pledge my devotion
Composing sonnets of horror for my
ghoul fiend
Penny dreadfuls are met apathetically
Asomatous, they are mere words
For a worthy offering tangible I deathneed
The pen has proved fallible to the might
of the swords
For my Bathorial maiden, I＇ll kill and maim
For our victims, the future proves bleak
I＇ll slice throats in her bloody name
Rending other＇s flesh that in me is so weak
Excisions and slices and cuts to their
integument
My finesse with cutlery, she doth inspire
Collecting a bouquet of offal, my regiment
Trophies to admire
Dislimbed torsos and severed craniums
Disinterred innards and human chum
Though I present this sanguine tribute
It＇s never enough and still I＇m rebuked
A grandiose gesture, I require for a
petulent madamned
Gutted, my entrails will be preserved
in canopic vials
Formaldehyde and alcohol are
meted into jars
Lacerating extremities, a fitting end
to these trials
Incised omentum, avulsed intestines
Abdominal evisceration, self-dissection
Mellifluent gore is met with ennui
My tragic reward is naught but death＇s kiss
Consciousness falters as blood flows
from my head
Lay me down to die, nothing is better than this
