Female Torso Snuff Relations

Destroying the thresholds of receptors
Do not think somebody wants your death
There is so little space for true love here
That all the suffering transforms to pleasure
In a stuffy gapage, in a blowtorch's light

Hung by her feet my dear lady is
Under this spine there is something we dreamed of so long
A place with a view on red pyjamas and lingerie getting yellow
The blade is closer and closer
First cut is a first kiss

Humble cut starts bleeding of such stimulation
Capillaries sprinkle the red dew on skin
Open cavity fills with blood, like a glass is filled with fresh milk
This is my sweet communion, which, I drink, confessing
Urine flows down

On the stomach, chin and face
Irritating eyes
Filling the mouth
Vomiting spasm
Half-digested pudding, slipping off the burnt-down face
In slimy chunks was falling on the floor
Tight rope was straining under weight of convulsing quartered body