Evening's obscenities couldn't be worse... From here to the morgue to the back of the hearse. A now empty basement once covered in dust, disintegrates unlike memory's lust.
Knives were too dull so he sharpened them all, spinning the blade of a rusty chainsaw, licking the points like a cannibal, while mumbling, "Life is beautiful."
Tied with wire to the wall, she smiled with a broken jaw. He hammered nails into her wrists. Desire crept in from the hall.. He bit her lips. His fingertips sodomized her eyes to fix the desperate look. The way she shook, the breath she took might haunt him, but that stare no longer taunts him, so another nail was twisted in through sweat-glazed skin to scrape each bone, nerves that should be left alone.. but sin is prone to violence and she should have fucking known.
Unconscious and crucified is much better than traumatized. He brought her down to where she lied, then dissected to see inside, cutting holes 'til organs died. Ice picks chiseled through her skull. Tongue was charred and edible. Grinded ribcage topped the table and lungs were still inflatable. Though glory was debatable, blood dripped from the kidney in his teeth. Wrapped in a sheath, he placed her disfigured feet in the freezer underneath some ice so no one would see her. Intestines filled the oven at four hundred degrees. Stirring mangled flesh in a pot by the heater, he glanced at the cross and proceeded to eat her.
Moonlight filtered through foggy air. He pulled her sticky, blood-soaked hair, bone remains and veins to where six holes were dug, prepared, compared to empty graves in his backyard.
Depraved, he waved a last goodbye and shoveled dirt between her thighs, corroding, exploding like the flies that love to gag on fresh demise. And if she ever starts to rise, paramedics need supplies. Body bags all opened wide, then toe tags when identified.
Dental records, fingerprints.. Some were left as subtle hints of actions, inexcusable. But if they aren't suitable and never become provable, then maybe life is beautiful.