Eat the flesh that falls from his bones.

Walking around your body, imagining the color of your bones.
Ripping your shirt off, I watch your eyes fill with terror. You start
to scream and whimper, I shake my head in dislike. I reach in your
mouth, using my knife to gut out your tongue.

Swallowing the meat I just took from you, I laugh. Feeling it wriggle
its way down into my throat, the throat that soon will be lined with
your blood. Holding my knife in my hand, I rip into your stomach,
feeling warm red liquid splatter all over my face.

Licking my lips, I look up at you in delight. Seeing the inside of your
core, I want more. Reaching my hand into your gooey innards, I make
my way up to your throat. Tugging at the hundreds of veins that I know
I could use as decorations for my home.

Living in sickness, striving to cause someone pain. Knowing that
someone may die from my hand. Knowing that this excites me, and
the killing isn't in vain. I rip a chunk outta your stomach and chew
at the skin between my teeth. I lean over to slurp up your blood like soup,
bits of your organs like the meat.

Tearing off your head, feeling it crack in my hands, I throw it to the floor.
Tugging and pulling at your spine, I see the color of your perfectly shaped
bones, the white and red present I've been waiting for. Using my tongue
to clean them up, I swallow every drop.

Blood splattered on my walls, flesh covering the floors. Not scared of anything,
but fearing it all. Eat the flesh that falls from his bones, my mom's sick and
twisted way of teaching. I'll always fulfill this desire I have, for fresh bodies,
I'll be reaching.