Necrotic ooze poured from a carafe
Acquired for a blood bath
In the morgue lies a treasure trove of lividous compounds decaying
A trocar suctions out the blood while a sphincter suffers my raking
With reams of ichor and surplus of fæces, the dead are so giving
A boundless supply of foetid excretions compels me to lavage the stench of
the living
My skin sullied with the filth of life
Vomit of my pores with which I am rife
In my crepitated pits bacteria thrive
Momentarily subdued by this morbid dive
Cadaverous fats boiled into soap for a rotten lather
Ensanguine mix of excreta and chyme, the cleanser I have gathered
Putrescent spilth and human chum squab over the lip of my tub
Soaking in the dead, skeletal remains exfoliate and scrub
A cauldron teeming with wasted corse
This mortal soiled with pus and remorse
Out, out damned spot, caught red-handed, blood stains so hard to clean
Arteries pumping crimson kelter, veins to expunge and ream
A babe from the womb untimely ripped, bereft of life, it's squeezed and
drained
Placenta sponging at this corporeal form of which I am ashamed
Basted organs
Sebacious glands
Cooked in a vat
For a blood bath
Scour away integument to reveal the fleshy tendons that I'll
Abrase with cholic acid and with a solvent composed of bile
Scrub out my gullet with a pro-septic wash that will
Erase this mired being to be drained with the rest of the swill
Post-mortem spew and excrement garnish the mort bouillon
Meliorated with moldered viscera in my dead body lotion
The necro-emetic concoction, effervescing with unctuous suds
Desoils me of my besmirched existence, submerged in a basin of blood
Blood bath
