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Sitting alone all night with bottles of liquor under dim light
That surfacing premise; The killer inside writhing under restraint.
The sound of meat packing,
the violent smacking of rawness,
slapped against a concrete floor
The vile stench of abdomen
The cleansing prescence of blood over me.

Trying to eradicate the feeling beneath me,
seeming to believe flesh isn't what I'm craving.
It'll all be better in just a few hours
only after I slaughter, devour and shower in bloody catharsis.

I miss the taste of severed nerve endings.
I'll cut and kill them all

to be sent from hell to lead their fall
Hacking knives in the back,
Snuffing the candlelight from long stemmed cries bring me delight.

The need to murder and hear their screams
I want to feast on their lost dreams
I miss the smell of crusted blood on my hands
I want to kill again.
©2007-2009 ~The13thAntiChrist
:iconthe13thantichrist:

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-A-


Homage to 'Necrotica's butcher.

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February 15, 2007
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