Your dry throat creaks without a saliva to sputter

As your pulpy dehydrated tongue soundlessly threshes

Days without sustenance spent shackled and fettered

Emaciated torso aches for the warm taste of flesh...



I will make a meal of you, your hunger I'll sate

Saw off your leg at the knee to put on your dinner plate

Try not to wince at the pain that you feel

As I mince up your calf to prepare your next meal...



Cauterise the gargled wound to stave off the haemorrhage

You should savor the thought of your repast

Choke down this bitter meal in spite of your revulsion

Though how long can your source of food last?



Keeping yourself alive as you're force-fed your own flesh

If you don't eat up, you're truly dead meat

Legs turned to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps

In this case you really are what you eat...



AUTOPHAGOUS GLUTTONY

CULINARY PATHOLOGY

DIETARY BUTCHERY

CONSUMING IMPULSE



Ingest your corpse to be...



Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is served

Waste not ; want not, though there's not much to conserve

Severed and severely served upon a platter of splatter

After a while the source of the sustenance barely even matters...



Now a half-eaten torso gorged to the glut

Piece by piece you are fed the chicest cuts

As the dinner-bell rings your bloody chops are feverishly licked

At the sight of your own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit...



Your own meat in your mouth tastes bitter and internecine

Noxious and moist, you get a taste of your own medicine

Gnashing, pieces of your limbs with delight

Digesting your death with each grotesque bloody bite



What's eating you? The question seems to moot

Scraping chunks of your feet out of your