Decomposer - General Surgery

Are we lying comfortably?

I hope that you fear not

Your stay here shall be lengthy

Depending on just how quickly you rot

Apply a quicklime mudpack

Hinder circulation

Artificially inflicted gangrene

Hasten the maceration

Rendered impeccably clean

Stripped to the ivory core

The cleansing of your fetid flesh

Revealing the divine gleam of bone

Strings of muscle tissue

Yanked away with ease

Luckily I removed your tongue

I’m distracted by agonized screams

It probably won’t hurt too much

The sedatives will bear you through

The pain eventually subsides

When your nerve ends turn to goo

Bound to be gored

Intravenously fed

Destined to rot

Your skin to be shed

Trimming off loose sinew

Your appearance is still a mess

My psychopedantic maniacal glee

Matches your distress

Cleanliness is godliness

Unbound by rank decay

I admire your skeletal remains

As I hose your fetid carrion down the drain