|
I work the graveyard shift, cadavers lay silently in wait |
|
My utensils are ready to perform degrading autopsies |
|
Through the sinews of dead flesh |
|
And within the dried marrow of old bones |
|
I have discovered the secrets of the dead |
|
Mercilessly |
|
I pit out what the dead cannot hide |
|
I become enlightened with a knowledge that makes me strong |
|
A power I now possess launches me into the afterworld |
|
Traveling paths in the innermost niches of putrefaction |
|
I will become a god of suppuration in this dead domain |
|
But to enter the putrid portal |
|
I must frantically carve |
|
Tediously |
|
I labor over crude necropsies, bizarre necrotomy |
|
My entire being soon liquefies as |
|
I cross over |
|
I take on the form of foul cadaverine |
|
Now through the perished, hardened veins |
|
I flow Immersed into the deceased where no life resides |
|
Except for wriggling fat white maggots filled with smegma and decay |
|
Apparitions haunt the viscera, my presence they avoid |
|
In terror they try so hard to hide |
|
Disappearing into the offal of the btchered |
|
When the dead go the way of all that is flesh |
|
And the burdensome mortal coil is shaken off |
|
Moving as |
|
I wish between the living and the dead |
|
Carcasses are tenements for all spectral souls |
|
An actual cosmos existing within a corpse |
|
The morticians could not fathom what |
|
I see Like a scalpel |
|
I cut my way through the necrosphere |
|
Plunging into the deepest recesses of the carrion |
|
They are unable to flee from my disembodied grasp |
|
The dead scream as |
|
I infernally enslave them |
|
Truly I am gifted, empowered with necromacy |
|
Originating in dead matter makes me necrogenic |
|
The interior decomposed membranes of the stiffs from a necrosphere |
|
Which has always remained unseen by mortal eyes |
|
Until I found the concealed secrets of the rot realm |
|
Now I am divine, the dead now worship me |
|
As if I am a god |
