| Plumbing the depths of the now vacant carcass
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| Degenerative processes now completed
|
| Feeling through a miry, putrid pulp
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| Of organs which necrosis has thoroughly depleted…
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| Delving into the nether regions of necrology
|
| I have disturbed and dismantled their graves
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| Collecting the putrefacted, liquefied remains
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| Into jars I have jealously saved…
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| The crumbling human waste that passes for a corpse
|
| Is now a fetid pastime, in which I occasionally indulge
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| The embalming of rancid mortal sludge collect
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| A hobby not often divulged…
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| Perversely pursuing pathological profundity
|
| But in the end I remain without comprehension
|
| I find myself searching in an overturned crypt
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| Much to the tenants' ghastly apprehension…
|
| But in that muddy sepulchre of rot and decrepitude
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| I find a brief solace from my woes and trepidation
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| With my hands caked with gore and face streaked with rotten grume
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| I come into a moment of vital realization…
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| In that beautiful moment of essential oneness
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| I ejaculate on the face of the stiff
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| I lose myself in the quagmire of rotten flesh
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| Inhaling the pungent rancid whiff…
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| Amongst festering putrefaction and moldy tissue and bone
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| At last I find my release
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| Vomiting on the genitals of the severely dead and gone
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| I sully and deride the deceased…
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| To relive the orgasmic sensation I crave
|
| Time and time again I find myself led
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| To charnel houses and desecrated graves
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| To perform indignities to the dead… |