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 I need tangible death

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