Luyện nghe bài hát Consuming Impulse

Your dry throat creaks without a saliva to
As your pulpy dehydrated soundlessly threshes
Days without sustenance spent shackled and
Emaciated torso for the warm taste of flesh

I will make a of you, your hunger I'll sate
Saw off your leg at the knee to put on dinner plate
Try not to wince at the pain that you
As I mince up your calf to your next meal

Cauterize the gargled wound to off the hemorrhage
You should savor the thought of repast
Choke down bitter meal in spite of your revulsion
how long can your source of food last?

Keeping yourself alive as you're your own flesh
If you don't eat up, you're dead meat
Legs turned to stumps, bloody drinks in clumps
In this case you are what you eat

gluttony
Culinary pathology, butchery
Consuming
Ingest corpse to be

Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is
Waste not ; not, though there's not much to conserve
and severely served upon a platter of splatter
After a while the source of the sustenance even matters

Now a half-eaten torso to the glut
Piece by you are fed the chicest cuts
As the dinner-bell rings bloody chops are feverishly licked
At the of your own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit

Your own meat in your mouth bitter and internecine
and moist, you get a taste of your own medicine
Gnashing, pieces of limbs with delight
Digesting your death with each grotesque bloody

What's eating you? The question seems to
Scraping chunks of feet out of your blood-soaked sopping boot
Bash bones picked clean to suckle at the marrow
As your milieu of options inexorably narrows

Autophagous
pathology, dietary butchery
Consuming
your corpse to be

Feeding time comes again, the thorax falls victim to slaughter
Blood, pus and sebum wine, whiskey and water
Sometimes survival will you an arm and a leg
spittle running, red with bits of reeking bloody dregs

Masticate your own genitals, choke on your testicles
a hunger that will not be denied
The sweetest of meats is your soft, fatty
I'll be stuffing your face with tonight

Puking up own skin, just to devour it again
Is a treat you'll for dessert
Fresh meat for lunch, fibula cracked, drained and crunched
As your overstuffed gasps and blurts

Your crudely resected anatomy is a wretched grisly
But your stumps once arms just whet your
Nibbling at the of your bloody forearms and wrists ravenously
your shredded survival in fleshly chunks and meaty bits

Eviscerate yourself to at your own intestines
Bones from fingers facilitate this haphazard self-dissection
Clutch at inside your bowels with half-eaten grubby stumps
Pulling out the repugnant in grotesque tumescent clumps

Remaining fingers prying off succulent gouged out gums
at your stringy cheek lining and masticate your insatiable tongue
But the pieces you ingest in carnivorous
Fall out of the gaping that you have in your intestines

the meat from your avulsed face in a frenzied rush
No genitals, no feet, no legs, no appendage left
Half-eaten tongue oozes down your face, your hunger
Undiminished, when your partially devoured innards
will this meal at last be finished

Autophagous
pathology, dietary butchery
Consuming
your corpse to be