Death du Jour
harlot deliverance
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Acquittal is adultery for coitus on burial pile
Hold up the torch exquisiten but cold seed still pours between hocks
Vacant's so adorn
Futile to angle the fair flesh injudiciously;
Merely adornable cloack for bones
Rubbing against maggots nourishment
Several hours to waste just to waste self
Attractive piercing fleshly aroma
Blank mere than this unwrapped being
Take eyes off behalf nausea but honour
Flesh and bones crumbled for amass
Brains visible, salty blood drinkable
Taste and masticate;
Suitable and esteem
Inloathsome