A liturgist in the realm of filth and gore
Augean bard of æsculapian 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