Lusting Death

Horror corridors filled with blood and gore dead bodies laid out, strewn across the floor, boards soaked in delightful decadence.
Nude bodies dripping lust unto quivering lips waiting like eager cum sluts fucked then dismembered, decomposed for necrophilia, the sustenance of ambrosia.
Why is it raining blood while the sun is out? Flesh being mortified by self-flagellation, the Opus Dei of self-righteous planning, the Fuhrer of insidious demands; make it hurt good so I can cum all over his ass.
The instrumental insemination birthed through hatred and anticipation, the anti-Christ, anti-God, anti-establishment of a dying star, an anti-Earth the destruction of love.
Sacrificial virgins, spilling blood on hollow ground, faceless from a Hannibal diet of digesting the incisions over deformed eyelids and skull fucked for good measure.
Left of disposal from worm-like appendages sucking out Satan's seed through perforated pee holes, burning retinas, and dilated pupils. For they derive excited pleasure from pain.

We get to die all over again.