| Latent images in solutions submerged
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| A gallery of gore for posterity preserved
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| Your visage shall endure long after you’ve been laid to rest
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| Immortalized in celluloid as record of your death
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| A recremental work of art
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| Artuated straight from the heart
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| Your destiny is black and white
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| A grisly study in still life
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| A kalopsic collage is your patchwork grave
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| The cutting room floor is where you spend your last days
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| Anonymous atrocities, my subjects are the dead
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| An amateur gorenographer cutting off heads
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| Glistening gralloch, a zoetrope of rot
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| Exenterated torsos coacervate and clot
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| Veristic works of art are developed and displayed
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| Decomposed and posed as I prepare another plate
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| On my nefandous noctuary I diligently toil
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| For a carcass exfodiated from hallowed soil
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| An axunge prepared to grease the gears
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| Lacking my wit, kin may shed tears
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| Cohesive structure is what you lack
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| A poultice of plaster will fill in the cracks
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| Sculptures in flesh are my medium du jour
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| Your puniceous effigy I faithfully restore
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| Abdomen is spliced and the lighting is set
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| I’ll develop your roll as my ensanguined subject
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| Holes drilled in your skull form a camera obscura
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| This document of death will be rather thorough
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| My scrapbook of horror is your final epitaph
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| Pictures from the after world, a corpse photographed
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| Your countenance embossed in silver gelatin
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| A gruesome reminder of your untimely end
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| A test sheet is used for the final cut
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| Through trial and error I make my decision
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| The template enlarged to a grainy print
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| This excoriated exhibit, my final revision
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| (solo: «Welcome to the Bone Room» by L.d. Muerte)
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| (solo: «Matted and Framed for Decay» by S.C. McGrath)
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| Artistic license I must take
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| Depleted bones I’m apt to break I strike the set, this shoot is a wrap
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| Your casket occluded with residual scraps
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| The harvest I find in a moldering crate
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| A cadaverous curio with which I create |