See this man who has drowned in the river <br />Watch me as I make a feast of his liver. <br />Eating his flesh as it slips through my fingers <br />With the rot and decay and the stench that still lingers, <br /> <br />Tossing his bones to the scavengers that wait, <br />As I ponder the remains of his poor bloating mate. <br />I know if I take my knife and I stick her, <br />That wonderful smell in the air will grow thicker. <br /> <br />Competition for food out here in the wild, <br />Is not what one would exactly call mild, <br />So back to my cave will I probably drag her, <br />For only safe in my lair will I use my dagger. <br /> <br />You’re probably wondering why I picked up this strange habit, <br />And don’t just go out and kill a nice rabbit. <br />I simply enjoy the smell and the caseation of flesh <br />To the point of convulsing when I find something fresh.<br /><br />Michael Troy Buffo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/caseation-of-flesh/
