Blood bath

Necrotic ooze poured from a carafe
Acquired for a blood bath

In the morgue lies a treasure trove
of lividous compounds decaying
A trocar suctions out the blood
while a sphincter suffers my raking
With reams of ichor and surplus of fæces,
the dead are so giving
A boundless supply of foetid
excretions compels me to lavage the stench of
the living

My skin sullied with the filth of life
Vomit of my pores with which I am rife
In my crepitated pits bacteria thrive
Momentarily subdued by this morbid dive

Cadaverous fats boiled into soap for a rotten lather
Ensanguine mix of excreta and chyme,
the cleanser I have gathered
Putrescent spilth and human
chum squab over the lip of my tub
Soaking in the dead,
skeletal remains exfoliate and scrub A cauldron teeming with wasted corse
This mortal soiled with pus and remorse

Out, out damned spot,
caught red-handed,
blood stains so hard to clean
Arteries pumping crimson kelter,
veins to expunge and ream
A babe from the womb untimely ripped,
bereft of life, it's squeezed and
drained
Placenta sponging at this
corporeal form of which I am ashamed

Basted organs
Sebacious glands
Cooked in a vat
For a blood bath

Scour away integument to reveal
the fleshy tendons that I'll
Abrase with cholic acid and
with a solvent composed of bile
Scrub out my gullet with
a pro-septic wash that will
Erase this mired being to be drained
with the rest of the swill

Post-mortem spew and excrement
garnish the mort bouillon
Meliorated with moldered viscera in my dead body lotion
The necro-emetic concoction,
effervescing with unctuous suds
Desoils me of my besmirched existence,
submerged in a basin of blood

Blood bath