Luyện nghe bài hát Consuming Impulse

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

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

Cauterize the gargled to stave off the hemorrhage
You should savor the thought of your
Choke down this bitter meal in spite of your
Though how can your source of food last?

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

Autophagous
Culinary pathology, butchery
impulse
Ingest your to be

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

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

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

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

gluttony
Culinary pathology, dietary
Consuming
Ingest your to be

Feeding time comes again, the thorax falls to this slaughter
Blood, pus and sebum replace wine, and water
survival will cost you an arm and a leg
Your spittle running, red with bits of reeking dregs

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

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

Your resected anatomy is a wretched grisly sight
But your once arms just whet your appetite
Nibbling at the sinews of your bloody forearms and ravenously
Devouring your shredded survival in chunks and meaty bits

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

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

Gnash the meat from your avulsed face in a rush
No genitals, no feet, no legs, no appendage uncrushed
Half-eaten tongue oozes spittle down your face, your
Undiminished, only when your partially innards
Prolapse this meal at last be finished

gluttony
Culinary pathology, butchery
impulse
Excrete corpse to be