In the kitchen
|
With a screaming triple amputee...
|
Its completion depends solely
|
On my needs...
|
Said amputee's stumps
|
Are my way of saying... "Thank you
|
Just for being you."
|
Its fear tastes better than its limbs.
|
|
Terror of morality
|
I draw from the slowly dying damned
|
Monsters live behind my eyes;
|
I let them out and people die.
|
And all the grave worms
|
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 this?
|
|
I mark my territory
|
With their blood and excritement
|
And adipocere...
|
I can find my way in the dark;
|
My fulfilment is habitually necromanic
|
And anal abusive..
|
Seen through the eyes of a mortician
|
|
They've "caught" me, as they call it;
|
My teeth and my semen have betrayed me..
|
Nevermore!
|
Tests to gauge my rationale,
|
The likes of which these feeble minds have
|
Never seen.
|
|
Rorschach blotters,
|
My responses to which inspire fear...
|
From my lizard side,
|
The amoral alien speaks;
|
"These aren't butterflies,
|
I see a face I'd like to burn."
|
|
Obfuscation
|
Of the authorities with lies,
|
And my natur
|
Alability to charm and be me,
|
Or whoever they want;
|
I've known all minds by divine right.
|
|
-----------------
|
Phobophile
|
| Cryptopsy |
