Cadavers strung high in mass, at the hand of fear.
A perverse pleasure aroused within.

Sick and twisted, my own personal gallery of gore and mangled limbs held high within the darkness.

Faces stare into nothingness, gone, cold and lifeless.
Disgusting and putrescent, a maggot filled monstrosity I love.

I add more and more to my collection, more and more victims subject to my infection. Pleasure derived from pain, twisting the human figure in disgusting ways.

A room filled with the foul stench of new and old corpses made into one.

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