My monument is progressing. Bereft is thy deed of completion. By all means you'll be alive but not intact. I've sewn your lips to smile in abnormally disfigured designs. You observe the genesis of my abarroir. Reality accepted you have no choice, but to comply with my scalpel and my license to kill. Final seepage flowing I can't repress the urge. Thy coprophagists shall ingurgitate the filth. Grinding at your head with my bone saw, breaking zygoma. I love these tools at my disposal. I'm alive she cried out helplessly again. I ripped her limb from limb. My scalpel gleams my attention as I cast aside. Her arteries harden begging for intimical thrust. By products of digestion saok the floor. I'm searching for a hypodermic syringe to draw the waste flowing in your jugular, the heart is pumping faster. As I lie and wait to see you erupt from every orifice. The necrotizing fasciitis has commenced its work. No anesthesia applied this will be everlasting. In the name of anatomy I shall dismember and attain what is rightfully mine. As I hack at your lifeless corpse with my chainsaw my heart beats faster and faster ever swing I play, while smiling at your face don't ruin the process it won't be much longer, just let me have my fun and I will let you die. Ok wait I lied, false hope is my new trend, disgusting I know but thats the general idea of me. Now that I have my trophy of your anatomy, my monument only comes closer to its perfection. My passion to kill is uncontrollable it hungers for blood; I'll not stop until its been fulfilled.