Morbid

WHATS SO MORBID ABOUT WHAT I DID? TURN THE LID OF POISON AND TAKE A LONG QUENCHING SIP. I CAN STILL TASTE IT, BITTER THE HANGING LIP. I BITE THE VERY TIP OF THE HANGING MANGLED LIP. THE BLOOD DRIPS IN MY MOUTH AND FLOODS WHAT THE BLASTPHEMING GAW GRIPS. THE TAW SKIN SENDS TANTLIZING MESSAGES TO THE HAND TO TAKE THE PEICING KNIFE TO THE EXTENT OF ONES LIFE. IT SLICES THE ARM IN PIECES CAUSING PULSING HARM INTICING THE RAVISHING SLASH MOLDERING IN THE GASH. THE BLOOD STAIN SHEETS EAT IN HUMBLE ESTATE WHAT FLOODED SO SWEET. FANGS INGEST FLUIDS OF THE BEST PART OF HUMANITY STINGING SANITY. THE HEAT OF EXTASIES AND THE ROMANTICISM OF RAGE BINDS THE POISON IN A CAGE. FEEL THE LOVE OF THE KILL FOR ONES SELF THAT POUNDS BEATEDLY FOR BLOODSPILL. BURN JAGGED SKIN WITH FIRE OF HELLS GATES BRIGHTENING DESIRE FOR THE SLUSHY TASTE OF FLESH. THE TASTE OF ICY MESH! FEELING THE INTESTINS GULPING THE CITRIS ACIDS INTO NOTHINGNESS OF GORE. WHATCH THE BLUE SKIN THAT TORE! A WHITE PATCH THAT HANGS AS A LATCH MARKS THE BLOODED POOL! POOR FOOL! TASTING THE SACRED MEAT OF A HUMAN RAUTS IN ITS SEAT BREAKING ALL THE WAY TO HEAR THE CHOMPING OF BONES IN THE FEET. A TASTE I DISH UPON SO SWEET! THAT’S WHAT I INTISINGLY DID. SOMETHING SO SWEET AND MORBID!