The sound of vomiting to my ears like singing. now I am beginning to become erect. with illness I am obsessed in the beds of the fallen I rest. a fixation amplified the smell here is what I like best.
Between the lies, our dead language tongues. Before the dawns, our hearts they shall hunt. The smell of blood excites the nostrils. At first cut, the sanguinary worship of red.
Removal of the eyes gives my heart a sudden chill. I preserve them in formaldehyde to gaze upon at will. How their greenish flecks befell me that starlit winter's night.