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