A forest of impaled souls so dark and deep

Depraved and tormented woods resound with hellish cries

Sanguinary sap leaks forth from tattered bodies aloft

And trickles slowly to the soil, decayed and rusted

No breath is drawn in this place, nor does a pulse give hint of any life

Sunlight is totally absent, no warmth to cauterize this mire of gore

Gore

Carrion crows weep their dirge into hollow ears of souls departed

Putrid stench of thousands here, fallen from grace

The flesh is so easily run through, orgasmic in its horrific nature

At my table I enjoy the feast of sickness

This abominable spectacle before me

My eyes bleed