I’ve become more than morbid
Something like a rotten turtle
Warped and decayed from years of ingested filth
My home is deep down
And I’ve lived here for some time
No one notices me
I think they choose not to
No one likes to think of the holey world
They pretend it’s sanitary
And for me it is, I suppose
The morbid fantasy we have
When you see red, It’s done
I’ve never been one to tidy-up for company.
Not that I’ve ever had company.
Though , I’d like to consider the possibility of maybe one day, having company.
I’d like to invite someone over.
Maybe we could dine on sauteed heart, and wash it down with a big gulp of chilled blood.