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Crawling Chaos
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Plate XII
A little unpainted wooden house remote from travelled ways
Two hundred years and more it have leaned or squatted there
Small-paned windows still stare shockingly
Twisted in a reverie of memories of unutterable things
Lost in the fields, caught by the storm
Tried the door, knocking
Unpleasant crudeness, secrets forgotten
Bound in leather, there lies the book
Plate XII, gruesome details
The butcher's shop of the cannibal Anziques
Plate XII, repellent gastronomy
Old, white-bearded and ragged, he inspires wonder and respect
Strong, stout, with bloodshot eyes, inexplicably keen and burning
'Glad you had the sense to come right in'
The incongruous host said, motioning the frightened me to a chair
The book falls open, speech growing thicker
'This is sinful, I suppose'
Chopped bodies, tickling my blood
Shocking ecstasy, killing the sheep
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Plate XII, gruesome details
The butcher's shop of the cannibal Anziques
Plate XII, repellent gastronomy
The picture makes me hungry for victuals I cannot raise nor buy
They say meat makes bones and flesh, and gives you new life
A man can live longer and longer
Splattering impact, the rain is not red
A small red spattering glistens on the page
Lending vividness to the horror below
To the horror below
Plate XII, gruesome details
The butcher's shop of the cannibal Anziques
Plate XII, repellent gastronomy
Plate XII, Plate XII
Plate XII, loathsome repellent
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