Before the victim spoils

Is it not so quick?

The want, no the need of fire

Cast across the fruitful mire

Disintergration of the sick

And far gone the flesh

Dead bag of bone powder

Grinded fresh on screams louder

Beauty and disgust will mesh

Surgeon of cryptic caress

Dance boldly on the edge

The taste walks off the ledge

Into meat pudding under stress

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