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Dead bodies dangling,
six feet from the ground.
Creased chainsaw's roaring,
blood splashes around.

Limbs disrupt with ease,
amputate as I please.

Such pleasure I receive,
from the recently deceased.

A flesh-pile of corpses,
skin bloatates and rots.
Beheaded torsos,
I've covered with sludge.

Slithery maggots feed,
on quartered chunks of meat.

Enter my shed,
and welcome the dead.
Pure horror you'll see,
divine butchery.

The saw is family!

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