The Wretch

I have been your crucifixion doll far too long
And you have surely made a steak of me now, marinated in your own foul juices and whatnot
What a concoction I am! and home-made too, straight from scratch
A bundle of wretch of your own doing
Such a feast you could make of my legs and arms and heart and brain, such a feast you have already made of me
Cleaned were my bones of their flesh, snapped open
And you drunkened yourself on the marrow
I shall rest in your teeth and rot there a while and make a cavity of myself from the kanker sore I once was
Think of me fondly whilst you pick your gums
I had been waiting for you
Through your mouth and out your cunt I went, noting but your shit from a night nine months past
In one end and out the other
If I have passed through you one way, I have passed through you another