Haptic Feedbacks

I like the little haptic feedbacks you give,  
The eeks and ows, as your life drains like a sieve,  
The pained groans and sighs  
From one who hasn't said their goodbyes,  
If I said I didn't enjoy this, that'd be one of many lies.  
The convulsions and noises, as with tools, I poke and prod,  
Beaming with kvell to play god,  
To the top, I have clawed,  
Knowing on your bones, animals will have gnawed.  
The smell of singeing flesh,  
The cuts, and carvings with a knife so fresh,  
Messages left behind, before I zealously deflesh,  
Maggots and worms to feed upon your carcass,  
It's alright, you couldn't even tell your elbow from your ass,  
In the dim, dark, velvety, darkness.  
Leaving you in the dirt to be caked with mud,  
Checking off my death queue, and drained all your blood,  
To be used in paintings and sculptures, you dud.