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 excrement
I can find my way in the dark;
My fulfillment 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
Tests to gauge my rationale,
The likes of which these feeble minds have
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."
Of the authorities with lies,
And my nature
A liability to charm and be me,
Or whoever they want;
I've known all minds by divine right.