Sanguine Verses (of Extirpation) A darkened room re-opening at the stroke of twelve Grim cascades of light construct a blurry image The fridge-cage opens serving a putrid stiff Rusted will serve up the casual plat du jour Heat up the stove, my banquet commence Amputate limbs, Delicatesse in extremis There is no taste, like human rosbeef, haute-cuisine Savouring every chunk that slides down the esophague Feasting on man I survive reluctant and digestive Sanguine, my culinary addiction Just doing my part in depopulation Another day, another night to rob the morgue Retrieving...