The story I read, some forty years now,
Burns inside my head.
A young woman, ***** violently
By two brothers,
Hands and face mutilated,
The horror on her father's face.
Vengeance was his alone,
As he murdered her assailants,
And boiled down their bones.
His name was Titus.
The story was four hundred years old.
Re-told from a story three thousand years older.
Re-told today.
Rwanda, Bosnis, Syria, Jordan, Dahlmer et al.
Disfiguration with acid,
Limbs gone missing,
Tongues cut out, black sockets,
Missing parts of humanity
In prison camps and resistence movements.
We're still baking pies and feeding on human flesh.
Shakespeare was never so violent.

Its hard sleeping there are demons that illustrate my death like artisians
Any stage you'll be mauled to pieces and packed up into a car freezer.
Then I'll feed ya to three people there's no evil I wont see through.
I keep moving through each cooler to regroup em eat each noodle..

Like Jeffery Dahlmer Lets Be honest.